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UCSB  LIBRARY 


A 


KEEFE  BARTLETT  AND  EDITH.    Page  30. 


ONLY  GIRLS. 


VIRGINIA  F.  TOWNSEND. 


BOSTON: 
LEE    AND    SHEPARD,   PUBLISHERS, 

NEW  YORK: 
LEE,  SHEPARD  AND  DILLINGHAM. 

1874. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1872, 

By  LEE  AND  SHEPARD, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  1 1  Congress,  at  Washington. 


ItECTttOTTPED  AT  THS 

BOSTON  STK  REOTVPB  FOUNDS  T, 

19  Rj.ring  Lane. 


Meanwhile  the  Cardinal  Ippolito,  in  whom  all  my  best  hopes  were  placed,  being 
dead,  I  began  to  understand  that  the  promises  of  this  world  are,  for  the  most  part, 
vain  phantoms,  and  that  to  confide  in  one's  self,  and  become  something  of  worth 
and  value  is  the  best  and  safest  course. 

MICHAEL  ASGELO. 


ONLY   GIRLS. 


ONLY    GIRLS. 


CHAPTER    I. 

'/HE  devil  had  entered  into  Keefe  Bart- 
lett's  soul  that  day;  and  Keefe  had  .not 
said,  "  Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan." 
On  the  contrary,  he  had  provided  wide  room 
and  hospitable  entertainment;  and  the  devil  had 
not  been  slow  to  make  himself  at  home  in  the 
inn  which  he  found  in  Keefe's  soul.  For  that 
matter,  I  suspect  he  never  is,  anywhere. 

These  facts  certainly  do  not  make  a  happy 
introduction  for  Keefe ;  yet,  bad  as  they  are, 
there  is  something  to  be  said  for  him.  He  had 
just  rounded  the  point  of  his  seventeenth  birth- 
day, and  what  a  world  it  had  been  to  him !  'Such 
a  hard,  pinched,  cruel  face  as  it  had  turned 
towards  him  from  the  beginning !  Yet  it  was 
the  very  same  world  which  you  and  I  know  is 

9 


10  ONLY  GIRLS. 

full  of  green  fields,  and  laughter  of  golden  daisies, 
and  birds  with  bubbling  sweetness  of  song,  and, 
better  than  all,  full  of  great,  warm,  soft  hearts, 
and  blessed  helping  hands,  which  make  it  God's 
dear,  beautiful,  happy  world,  despite  the  sin  and 
the  misery. 

But  the  sin  and  the  misery  had  fallen  to 
Keefe's  lot.  Yet  his  history  is  not  an  uncom- 
mon one  —  more's  the  pity  !  If  it  were  something 
quite  out  of  the  ordinary 'run  of  things,  I  should 
not  think  it  worth  writing  to-day. 

Keefe  found  himself  stranded  helpless  upon 
the  world  before  he  had  mounted  his  eighth 
birthday.  His  father,  mate  of  a  merchant  vessel, 
with  plenty  of  native  shrewdness  and  ability, 
had  undermined  his  constitution  by  frequent 
sprees  when  he  was  in  foreign  ports,  and  at 
last  died  in  a  drunken  brawl  in  Buenos  Ayres. 

Keefe's  mother,  a  small,  worn,  sallow-complex- 
ioned  woman,  took  her  husband's  place  at  the 
family  helm  for  a  couple  of  years,  which  means, 
dropping  all  metaphor,  went  out  to  daily  house- 
cleaning,  and  kept  herself  and  her  son  from  star- 
vation, and  that  was  about  all. 

The  work-woman  took  cold  one  day.  Exposure 
and  privation  aggravated  the  disease,  which  at 


ONLY  GIRLS.  11 

first  did  not  seem  serious,  and  she  went  out  of 
life  in  ;i  swift  consumption,  and  Keefe  was  left  in 
the  world  with  his  eight  birthdays,  and  his 
hungry  little  stomach,  and  his  small  fists,  to  fight 
his  way  into  boyhood,  without  a  solitary  friend  or 
a  single  dollar. 

He  did  what  he  could.  Biped  or  quadruped, 
the  instinct  of  life  is  strong.  He  fought  off  that 
old,  hungry,  wolf  of  poverty,  inch  by  inch,  as 
shoe-black,  horse-currier,  news-boy,  by  turns ;  and 
so,  with  shoes  out  at  the  toes,  and  ragged  coats, 
and  a  stomach  whose  normal  condition  seemed 
one  of  craving  a  good  warm  dinner,  he  managed 
somehow  to  keep  soul  and  body  together  up  to 
that  day  when  the  devil  entered  Keefe  Bartlett. 

Two  days  before,  he,  with  a  number  of  the 
hands,  had  been  turned  off  from  the  Agawam 
Cotton  Mills,  a  dull  season  rendering  a  reduc- 
tion of  the  working-corps  necessary. 

Keefe  had  been  employed  at  one  of  the  looms 
about  three  months  —  on  the  whole  the  happiest 
of  his  life.  He  had  steady  employment  and 
sufficient  food ;  clean  country  air,  too,  which  was 
something  to  one  whose  lungs  had  been  half 
starved  in  the  close,  crowded  atmosphere  of  city 
lanes  and  alleys. 


12  ONLY  GIRLS. 

•  Agawam  was  a  small  manufacturing  town  lying 
off  the  main  arteries  of  railroads,  with  which  it 
was  connected  by  a  branch  line.  It  was  a  drowsy, 
picturesque  old  place,  some  two  hundred  miles 
from  New  York.  Its  large  water-power  had  at- 
tracted some  enterprising  capitalists,  and  the  old 
farming  town  had  of  late  burgeoned  into  a  flaming 
prosperity.  Its  mills  gave  work  to  hundreds  of 
employees,  and  its  quiet  old  farm-houses  afforded 
shelter  to  swarms  of  city  people,  who  alighted 
here  every  summer  for  the  tonic  of  the  air,  and 
the  great,  still,  restful  greenery  of  woods  and 
fields. 

Some  thirst  and  longing  for  these  had  got  into 
Keefe  Bartlett's  blood  that  summer,  chafing  and 
stinging  him  night  and  day.  The  dark,  swel- 
tering, noisome  alleys,  the  thud  and  roar  of  the 
great  city,  deafened  and  sickened  him  as  it  had 
never  done  before.  He  panted  for  breadth  and 
freedom,  as  wild  animals  do  shut .  up  in  iron- 
barred  cages. 

He  rushed  away  from  all  these  at  last,  a  good 
deal  as  a  wild  animal  might  do.  He  had  only 
his  hands  and  feet,  and  whatever  native  pluck 
there  was  in  him,  and  whatever  shrewdness  his 
education  in  the  city  purlieus  had  developed,  to 


ONLY  GIRLS.  13 

clear  a  place  for  himself  in  the  new  world  of  the 
country. 

Keefe  had  made  his  way  to  Agawam.  When 
he  left  New  York  he  had  no  goal  in  view,  hardly 
any  purpose  beyond  getting  away  from  the  hot 
alleys  and  the  crowded  streets.  But  he  had, 
followed  the  railroads,  and  slept  under  the  trees 
at  night,  which  was  no  hardship  for  one  who  had 
made  his  bed  in  the  back  yards  of  old  warehouses 
and  under  piles  of  lumber,  and  dragged  his 
chilled,  stiffened  limbs  out  in  the  morning,  with 
the  thermometer  at  zero.  So  at  last,  when  his 
feet  were  blistered,  and  his  pockets  emptied  of 
their  last  copper,  he  heard  of  the  Agawam  Cotton  • 
Mills,  and  of  employment  there  for  a  few  extra 
hands.  It  was  only  another  day's  pull  for  the 
tired,  blistered  feet,  and  Keefe  reached  Agawam, 
which  opened  into  Arcadia  for  him  when  he  - 
found  work  in  the  cotton  milk ;  and  —  You 
know  the  rest,  until  that  day  when,  as  I  have 
told  you,  the  devil  came  and  found  the  door  open, 
and  whisked  swiftly  into  the  soul  of  Keefe 
Bartlett. 

It  happened  in  this  wise:  The  morning  after 
he  had  been  turned  off,  he  was  hanging  about  the 
factories,  partly  from  habit,  partly  from  a  cling- 


14  ONLY  GIRLS. 

ing  fondness  for  the  old  place,  when  one  of  the 
partners  came  up  to  the  office,  which  supple- 
mented one  side  of  the  building  near  the  corner 
where  Keefe  was  standing  idly,  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  and  a  dull,  hopeless  look  on  his  heavy 
face,  which  did  not  improve  it. 

The  partner,  however,  did  not  notice  Keefe 
standing  there,  a  little  in  the  shadow  around  the 
corner.  If  he  had,  it  would  have  made  no  differ- 
ence :  the  boy  would  only  have  been  one  of  "  the 
hands"  to  the  sharp,  bustling,  prosperous  manu- 
facturer —  useful  when  he  could  be  put  to  service  ; 
when  he  could  not,  to  be  turned  off,  like  any  worn 
out  beast  of  burden :  not  a  bad  man,  either  —  ur- 
bane, hospitable,  jocose,  in  his  own  house. 

"  Only,"  taking,  slowly,  his  Havana  out  of 
his  mouth,  while  the  smoke  hung  in  little  cloudy 
circles  around  the  handsome  iron-gray  beard, 
"you  cannot  take  religion  and  philanthropy  into 
business  —  no,  sir." 

The  head  proprietor  was  not  alone  this  morn- 
ing. He  was  accompanied  by  his  nephew,  a 
slender,  shapely  youth,  a  junior,  who  had  run 
down  to  Agawam  for  a  few  days,  to  sniff  the 
mountain  air,  and  boat,  and  ride  horseback,  and 
play  croquet  with  his  pretty  cousin,  Edith  Folger, 


ONLY  GIRLS.  15 

•who,  falling  behind  him  a  birthday  or  two,  had 
not  yet  surmounted  the  equatorial  line  of  her- 
teens. 

This  was  the  talk  which  Keefe  Bartlett  over- 
heard that  morning,  standing  in  the  shadow  by 
the  corner  of  the  brick  factory.  It  never  once 
occurred  to  him  that  he  was  listening.  If  it  had 
he  would  probably  have  seen  nothing  to  be 
ashamed  of  in  that  act.  His  education  had 
hardly  been  of  the  sort  to  make  his  moral  sus- 
ceptibilities very  keen. 

"Uncle  Bryant,  I  want  some  money." 

"I've  no  doubt  of  it,  Rox"  (this  name  being 
a  happy  elision  of  his  mother's  maiden  one  — 
Rochford).  "  It's  a  chronic  want  with  young 
fellows  like  you,"  meanwhile  fumbling  in  his 
pocket  for  the  office  key.  "  How  much  do  you 
want  now  ?  " 

"  O,  a  couple  of  hundred  will  carry  me  over 
until  I  get  back  to  town.  You  know  I'm  good 
for  that  amount." 

"I  hadn't  thought  of  it  in  that  light,  Rox," 
with  a  pleasant  laugh.  "You  shall  have  the 
money,  of  course.  I'll  get  •  it  for  you  as  soon  as 
the  bank  opens.  Will  that  do  ?  " 

"  Perfectly,  thank  you.     Indeed,  I  shall   have 


16  ONLY  GIRLS 

i 
no  use  for  the  money  to-day,  as  I  am  off  on  a 

lark  with  Edith  this  morning." 

"  That  foolish  picnic  business ;  yes,  I  remem- 
ber. You  shall  have  the  money  to-morrow.  But 
what  was  all  that  talk  at  breakfast  about  your 
starting  for  the  city?  You'd  better  stay  at  least 
a  fortnight  longer." 

"  Thank  you,  sir.  Nothing  would  delight  me 
more.  But  I'm  bound  for  a  rough-and-tumble 
with  some  chums  among  the  Adirondacks.  I  must 
set  off  to-morrow,  rain  or  shine,  to  join  my  party." 

"  Sorry  to  hear  it,  Rox.  We  shall  all  miss  you, 
especially  Edith.  Some  aggravating  business  will 
take  me  away  from  home  to-night ;  but  I  will 
bring  over  the  money  at  dinner,  and  in  case  you 
are  not  there,  leave  it  in  my  desk.  You'll  find  it 
in  an  envelope  addressed  to  you." 

"  Thank  you  again,  uncle  Bryant.  I  shall  have 
no  use  for  the  money,  as  I  said,  until  to-morrow 
afternoon,  when  I  turn  my  back  on  this  Arcadia 
of  old  Agawam ;  so,  if  you  are  to  be  absent,  I 
may  not  see  you  again.  Shall  we  say  good  by  ? 
I  half  hate  the  word.  Good,  round,  flavorous  old 
Saxon  as  it  is,  it  leaves  a  little  bitter  tang  in  one's 
mouth,  or  thoughts." 

"  Don't  say  it,  then,  my  boy.     But  I  shall  see 


ONLT  GIRLS.  17 

you   again.     The   train  doesn't    leave    until   five 
o'clock.     I  expect  to  be  home  by  that  time." 

"  I  meant  to  foot  the  first  fifteen  miles,  though, 
and  must  set  out  early.  I  must  get  my  limbs  in 
training  for  the  Adirondacks,  you  see." 

The  elder  man  laughed,  and  looked  at  his 
nephew,  half  amused,  and  yet  with  a  touch  of 
sadness,  although  Bryant  Folger  was  not  given 
to  sentimentalizing  over  anything  in  the  earth 
or  the  heavens  above  it. 

"  Ah,  Rox,"  he  said,  "  it's  a  capital  thing  to  be 
a  young  fellow,  with  sound  health,  and  plenty  of 
money  to  spend,  and  not  a  care  in  the  world. 
Youth  flies,  my  boy,  like  Phaeton's  steeds.  You 
must  make  hay  while  the  sun  shines." 

"  I  am  doing  my  best  at  it,  uncle  Bryant," 
answered  the  young  man.  "  Don't  I  expect  a 
jolly  old  time  at  the  Adirondacks,  camping  out, 
taking  big  hauls  of  trout,  and  bringing  down 
heaps  of  birds,  and  a  fat  deer  occasionally ! " 

"  Well,  good  luck  to  you,  Rox.  Look  out  for 
your  neck.  Your  talk  almost  stirs  my  old  blood 
with  a  hankering  for  a  gun  and  a  powder-pouch,  a 
fishing-line,  and  the  wilderness." 

"  Cut  business  and  civilization   for   once,   and 
come  along  with  us,  uncle." 
2 


18  ONLY  GIRLS. 

The  elder  man  made  a  slight  but  significant 
gesture  towards  the  mass  of  dull-red  buildings 
which  stared  back  at  him  with  their  long  rows 
of  windows,  grim  and  remorseless  as  that  old 
desert  Sphinx  we  are  forever  hearing  about.  No 
words  could  have  supplemented  that  gesture  with 
any  deeper  meanings. 

The  most  practical  people  are  exquisitely  dra- 
matic once  in  a  while,  as  was,  for  one  instant,  the 
head  partner  of  the  Agawam  cotton  works. 

"  Good  by,  and  good  luck  to  you,  Rox." 

The  two  men  shook  hands,  the  elder  turning 
into  his  office,  the  younger  going  down  the  road, 
humming  some  notes  of  a  German  air  he  had 
heard  at  the  last  opera,  with*  a  crispness  and 
"sparkle  all  through  them,  like  the  drops  of  dew 
not  yet  dried  from  the  wilted  grass  by  the  road- 
side. 

All  this  time  the  figure  in  the  corner  by  the 
office  —  a  small  stone  addition  which  had  been 
recently  added  to  the  main  building  —  had  not 
stirred.  It  had  overheard  every  word  of  the 
conversation  which  had  just  transpired.  It  came 
out  now  and  looked  after  the  youth,  going  up 
the  road  with  his  careless,  jaunty  air,  and  easy 
half-dominant  grace  in  every  movement,  like  that 


ONLY  GIRLS.  19 

of  one  quite  assured  of  his  place  in  the  world,  and 
who  felt  that  the  best  things  in  it  —  the  cake  and 
the  wine  —  were  his  birthright  share.  The  coarser 
part  of  the  feast  —  the  bread  and  the  cold  meat 
—  might  fall  to  other  lots  and  welcome. 

Look  at  Keefe  Bartlett  as  he  stands  there, 
staring  at  that  slender,  graceful  figure  going  up 
the  road.  He  is  not  of  that  mould  himself,  be- 
ing heavily  built,  with  a  slouch  in  his  shoulders, 
and  coarse,  large  hands,  square,  big  features,  with 
a  tanned,  pimply  skin,  lightish,  bristly  hair,  the 
shade  of  leaves  that  have  bleached  all  winter 
under  the  snows ;  thick  light  e}Tebrows,  too,  and 
eyes  that  have  a  shrewd  gleam  in  them :  once 
get  a  fair  look  there,  you  set  a  different  value 
afterwards  on  the  dull,  heavy  features. 

The  "turned-off  hand"  wears  a  suit  of  gray, 
coarse  clothes  —  the  best  he  e.ver  had  in  his  life. 
He  has  earned  them  since  he  came  to  Agawam. 
Since  he  came  here,  too,  a  great  many  strange 
thoughts  have  been  working  under  the  bristly 
hair.  Keefe  has  listened  to  the  questions  astir  in 
his  brain,  and  all  the  steady  whir  and  thud  of 
the  factory  wheels  could  not  drown  them.  He 
wonders  what  these  differences  in  human  lots 
nieaii ;  why  all  the  hunger,  and  cold,  tuul  want, 


20  ONLT  GIRLS. 

the  starved,  miserable  childhood,  should  have 
fallen  to  him,  and  the  life,  warmed,  and  spiced, 
and  fragrant  with  love,  and  comfort,  and  luxury, 
to  others. 

He  has  brooded  over  it  by  night  and  by  day. 
A  bitter  sense  of  wrong  and  outrage  has  taken 
possession  of  him  more  and  more.  He  has  a  feel- 
ing of  bitterness  towards  all  rich  men,  as  though 
they  had  robbed  him  of  his  birthright,  and  gloats 
sometimes  over  the  thought  that  a  day  of  reckon- 
ing is  to  come,  he  cannot  tell  when  or  how ;  but 
it  is  to  be  a  day  of  triumph  for  labor  and  poverty, 
when  the  rich  shall  no  longer  grind  the  poor 
under  their  iron  heel. 

Keefe  talks  over  this  matter  more  or  less  with 
the  workmen,  when  they  hang,  in  the  hot  sum- 
mer evemngs,  about  the  piazza  of  the  big  factory 
boarding-house  down  in  the  hollow.  Not  a  very 
attractive  place,  certainly,  but  a  palace  in  compar- 
ison with  Keefe's  former  homes. 

The  boy  is  rather  a  favorite  with  the  hands. 
He  has  a  knack  at  acting,  and  entertains  his 
companions  with  comic  shows  of  scenes  he  has 
witnessed  in  the  alleys  and  by-streets  of  that 
great  Babel,  two  hundred  miles  south  of  Agawam 
—  scenes  not  delicate  or  refined,  perhaps,  but 


ONLT  GIRLS.  21 

touched  all  through  with  some  strong,  native, 
human  life. 

Keefe  is  always  sure  of  an  audience  that  would 
have  made  a  study  for  Hogarth  —  an  audience 
with  clay  pipes,  and  loud  guffaws,  and  admiring 
oaths,  when  he  transforms  himself  into  some 
street  brawler,  or  shoe-black,  or  drunken 
sailor. 

One  of  the  workmen  has  assured  the  boy  his 
vocation  was  the  clown  of  a  circus,  and  another 
lias  recommended  the  Bowery  Theatre;  after 
a  while  he  "might  make  a  big  tiling  at  the 
comic  parts." 

But  Keefe  had  made  no  plans  for  the  future 
when  he  was  turned  off  from  the  place  where, 
to  his  credit,  considering  his  previous  vagabond 
life  and  habits,  he  had  worked  steadily  all  sum- 
mer. He  had  not  money  to  pay  his  board  for 
another  week,  and  the  winter  was  coming ;  and 
the  outlook  was  gloomy  enough. 

Keefe  thrust  his  hands  into  his  pockets,  and 
strode  away  from  the  factory  office  that  morning 
with  the  talk  which  he  had  overheard  at  work  in 
his  brain,  and  his  thoughts  swelling  in  a  great 
bitterness  against  the  speakers,  especially  against 
the  young  man,  just  about  his  own  age,  who  had 


22  ONLY  GIRLS. 

wealth,  and  pleasure,  and  friends  at  command ; 
who  had  only  to  ask  for  a  couple  of  hundred 
dollars,  and  lo !  it  was  rained  down  upon  him 
much  as  the  clouds  rained  down  their  showers 
upon  the  thirsty  grass. 

And  here  was  Keefe,  without  a  dollar  in  the 
world,  and  with  the  old  freezing  and  starvation  he 
knew  so  well  waiting  for  him  a  little  way  off!  And 
to-morrow,  with  his  two  hundred  dollars  stowed 
away  in  his  pocket,  and  his  careless,  jaunty  air, 
which  seemed  an  insulting  defiance  to  Keefe,  this 
youth  would  start  all  alone  to  walk  over  the  road 
to  the  station  at  Plum  Forks,  the  road  by  which 
Keefe  had  come  to  Agawam,  and  which  he  knew 
so  well.  And  while  his  thoughts  kept  revolving 
around  this  central  fact,  all  of  a  sudden,  and  so 
slyly  that  he  did  not  know  it,  the  devil  entered 
into  the  soul  of  Keefe  Bartlett. 

A  mood  half  fierce,  half  sullen,  possessed  him 
now.  "What  right  had  that  '  Rox,' "  Keefe 
kept  asking  himself,  "to  this  two  hundred  dol- 
lars, which  he  was  going  to  squander  in  gay 
carousals,  with  companions  as  lazy  and  lucky 
as  himself,  among  the  mountains?  Those  deli- 
cate fingers  of  his  had  never  earned  a  dinner  or 
a  night's  lodging ; "  and  then  Keefe  drew  his 


ONLY  GIRLS.  23 

hard,  big  hands  out  of  his  pockets,  and  stared 
at  them  with  a  smile  fierce  and  bitter  enough. 

The  boy  wandered  off  by  himself.  His  black 
thoughts  were  company  enough  for  that  day; 
and  all  the  while  he  kept  seeing,  as  in  a  vision, 
the  slender  figure  moving  rapidly  along  the  track, 
with  its  careless,  jaunty  air.  That  would  all  be 
to-morrow.  Keefe  had  taken  in  and  remembered 
all  the  points  of  the  journey.  Rox  would  have  to 
start  about  one  o'clock  in  order  to  reach  the  down 
train  in  time.  There  were  long  lonely  stretches 
on  the  road.  Keefe  knew  them ;  he  knew,  too, 
that  he  had  twice  the  muscular  power  of  the 
delicately-bred  student,  for  his  vagrant  life  had 
toughened  his  naturally  hardy  constitution. 

Keefe  was  not  without  weapons,  too ;  he  re- 
membered now  the  pistol  he  had  bought,  for  a 
mere  song,  of  one  of  the  workmen,  in  order  to 
shoot  muskrats.  Not  that  he  meant  to  use  that, 
—  a  cold  sweat  actually  started  all  over  him,  —  of 
course  not ;  but,  then,  how  easy  it  would  be,  for 
any  one  who '  knew  what  Keefe  did,  to  follow  the 
young  student,  and  come  upon  him  suddenly 
from  behind,  in  some  lonely  place  on  that  long 
stretch  of  road,  deal  the  fellow  a  blow  that  would 
knock  sense  and  sight  out  of  him  for  a  few 


24  ONLY  GIRLS. 

minutes,  and  then  rob  him  of  that  two  hundred 
dollars,  to  which  he  had  no  right ! 

You  may  be  sure,  when  such  thoughts  as  these 
stirred  in  Keefe's  soul,  the  devil  was  not  far 
behind  them.  Keefe  had  had  a  conscience,  not 
a  very  sensitive  one,  of  course,  with  his  educa- 
tion of  old  wharves  and  back  alleys ;  still,  he  had 
always  had  the  name  of  keeping  his  word  among 
his  brother  boot-blacks  and  news-boys — .some 
memory  of  the  pinched,  sallow-faced  little  woman, 
who  had  gone  to  her  grave  so  many  years  before, 
holding  him  back  from  committing  any  act  which 
the  world  agrees  to  call  crime,  even  when  the 
temptation  had  been  very  sharp. 

Even  to-day  he  thought  of  her  sometimes ;  but 
he  was  hunted,  maddened  by  disappointment, 
misery,  and  a  burning  sense  of  wrong ;  and  all  day 
long  he  kept  brooding  over  the  solitary,  rapid 
young  figure,  on  the  lonely  road,  and  seeing  the 
two  hundred  dollars  stowed  away  in  his  wallet. 
An  evil  glitter  came  into  the  boy's  eyes,  and  it 
grew  and  grew  there,  until  the  whole  face  be- 
neath seemed  to  grow  heavy  and  brutal. 

Keefe  gloated  over  that  money ;  his  very  blood 
hankered  and  tingled  for  it;  and  at  last,  after 
wandering  that  whole  day  among  the  highways 


ONLY  GIRLS.  25 

and  over  the  country  roads,  when  the  sun  shot 
up  one  wide  purple  splendor  over  the  distant  hills 
around  Agawam,  Keefe  set  his  big  jaws  together, 
and,  with  an  awful  look  darkling  all  over  his 
face,  swore  that  he  would  have  the  two  hundred 
dollars. 

And  the  devil,  sitting  in  Keefe  s  soul,  laughed 
to  himself! 


26 


ONLT  GIRLS. 


CHAPTER    II. 

SHY,  Rox,  you  are  the  most  unac- 
countable being !  How  in  the  world 
did  you  contrive  to  drop  down  here 
in  this  fashion  ?  " 

She  came  in  from  the  garden,  where  she  had 
been  gathering  flowers  —  honeysuckle,  pinks,  jes- 
samine, and  sweet,  fresh,  dainty  tilings  of  that 
sort,  and  found  him  stretched  upon  one  of  the 
lounges  in  the  sitting-room  in  his  usual  careless 
fashion,  only,  whatever  attitude  Rox  Coventry 
took,  it  was  never  awkward  or  angular. 

Rox  was  Edith  Folger's  own  cousin,  and  she 
adored  him.  He  stood  to  her  in  the  place  of 
the  brother  who  had  died  just  within  the  border- 
land of  her  memory,  while  the  remoter  relation 
gave  just  a  relishing  spice  of  romance  to  their 
feeling  for  each  other. 

To  say  that  Edith  was  a  fairer  flower  than  any 
of  those  fragrant,  blossoming  things  she  brought 


ONLT  GIRLS.  27 

in  with  her,  would  be  as  true  as  commonplace. 
She  had  a  wonderfully  sweet  face,  with  big,  dusky 
blue  eyes,  and  glossy  hair,  with  a  flicker  in  it 
like  bright  live  things,  and  a  little  tremulous  flush 
in  her  cheeks ;  and  her  smile  —  well,  of  all  the 
sweet  things  about  Edith  Folger,  I  think  that 
smile  was  the  sweetest. 

As  for  the  rest,  she  was  an  only  child,  her 
father's  pet  and  darling,  especially  since  her 
mother  died. 

"  Perhaps  I  dropped  down  from  the  clouds, 
perhaps  I  came  in  on  some  dainty  Ariel's  back. 
Don't  you  know  by  this  time  I  am  not  made  of 
common  clay,  and  can  navigate  earth  or  air 
in  ways  quite  unknown  to  ordinary  mortals  ?  " 

Edith's  laugh  slipped  out,  a  fresh,  silvery  thing 
enough. 

"  I  am  ready  to  believe  almost  anything  about 
you,  Rox ;  but  that  mouthful  is  too  huge ;  I 
cannot  swallow  it." 

"  Well,  you  needn't.  I  walked  in  like  any 
other  human  biped,  after  a  splendid  swim,  to  ask 
for  some  lunch,  and  to  tell  you  I  must  be  off  in 
half  an  hour." 

"Half  an  hour!"  tossing  her  flowers  on  the 
table  with  so  hurried  a  movement  that  some 


28  ONLY  GIRLS. 

of  them  were  scattered  on  the  carpet.  '•  O,  Rox, 
I  hoped  you  had  given  up  that  frantic  notion 
of  walking  over  to  Plum  Point  Station." 

"•Frantic!  Why,  child,  it  is  a  most  sensible 
and  practical  conclusion  on  my  part.  I  need  a 
little  breathing  for  the  Adirondacks,  you  know. 
Now,  be  the  angel  you  always  are,  and  order 
my  lunch  at  once,  and  help  me  eat  it,  for  I  must 
devour  it  and  really  be  off  in  half  an  hour." 

"  There  is  nothing  to  be  done,  then,  but  to 
let  you  have  your  own  way,  I  suppose."  And 
she  went  and  touched  the  bell  a  little  gravely. 
"  What  will  you  have  ?  " 

"  O,  a  leg  of  cold  chicken,  some  sandwiches, 
and  to  top  off  with,  a  glass  of  fresh  cream  and 
some  berries." 

It  was  evident  that  Rox  was  quite  at  home  at 
his  uncle  Bryant's. 

There  was  some  more  light,  prankish  talk 
between  the  two,  with  little  silvery  laughters 
of  Edith's  between,  and  an  occasional  burst  from 
Rox,  and  then  the  servant  who  had  received  the 
girl's  order  brought  in  the  lunch,  and  two  had  it 
in  a  pretty  little  alcove  on  one  side  of  the  big 
room. 

"  This    is    just    delectable,   Edith,"    exclaimed 


ONLY  GIRLS.  29 

Rox,  as  he  piled  the  girl's  plate  with  raspber- 
ries which  had  not  yet  lost  the  fresh  coolness  of 
morning  dews,  in  which  they  had  hung  two  hours 
l.efure.  "I  pity  the  poor  fellows  who  haven't 
cousins  to  eat  lunches  with  them." 

i-Mith  would  usually  have  been  awake  to  the 
il.i\or  of  compliment  in  this  remark.  She  had 
her  little  vanities,  and  liked  to  be  praised,  as  all 
girls  do ;  but  she  only  smiled  faintly  as  she  took 
her  saucer  of  berries,  and  actually  looked  grave 
for  a  moment  before  she  said,  — 

"  There  are  so  many  people  in  the  world  who 
are  to  be  pitied,  Rox  !  " 

"I've  no  doubt  of  it,"  helping  himself  to  the 
cold  chicken  with  a  crowned  contentedness,  such 
as  one  could  fancy  the  gods  might  feel  at  some 
banquet,  talking  over  the  troubles  of  mortals. 

Perhaps  Edith  thought  something  of  this  kind 
as  she  watched  her  cousin — for  she  had  thoughts 
behind  that  pretty  face  of  hers.  In  a  minute  I?  \ 
looked  up  from  his  plate.  It  was  evident  that 
no  speculations  on  human  affairs  disturbed  the 
appetite  which  he  had  brought  in  from  his  swim 
that  morning. 

"  What  kind  of  people  were  you  thinking  of, 
Edith?" 


30  ONLT  GIRLS. 

"All  sorts  of  folks  who  are  in  trouble,  and 
ean't  see  their  way  out  of  it." 

"They're  a  pretty  huge  lump,  Edith,"  ex- 
claimed Rox,  cheerfully.  Don't  think,  now,  he 
was  hard  and  selfish ;  he  was  only  careless  and 
thoughtless ;  but  he  had  a  real  soft  place  in  his 
heart,  if  one  could  get  down  to  it.  "  What's  put 
them  into  your  head  now  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  unless  it  was  something  which 
happened  while  I  was  gathering  the  flowers,  just 
before  you  came  in." 

"  Come,  let's  have  it,  Edith." 

"  It  was  very  curious.  I  was  way  off  in  the 
corner  by  the  hedge,  hunting  for  some  feathery 
greens  to  finish  up  my  flowers,  when  all  of  a 
sudden  —  I  really  can't  tell  whether  I  saw  him 
first  —  I  knew  somebody  was  watching  me  out- 
side. There  he  was,  when  I  turned  round  and 
looked,  sitting  on  the  grass,  a  big,  broad-shoul- 
dered fellow,  in  a  coarse  gray  suit,  and  a  square, 
coarse,  homely  face  under  a  bit  of  a  skull-cap. 
He  was  looking  at  me  with  a  steady,  curious  gaze, 
out  of  such  strange  eyes !  I  can't  tell  what  the 
look  meant;  but  there  was  some  pain  or  mystery 
in  it.  There  he  sat,  staring  at  me,  like  some  old 
roughly-hewn  statue  " 


ONLT  GIRLS.  31 

"  He'd  no  business  there,"  exclaimed  Rox,  with 
a  slight  growl. 

"  Perhaps  not.  He  turned  his  eyes  away  when 
ours  met ;  and  yet,  when  I  looked  again,  there 
the  figure  sat,  watching  me  with  the  indescribable 
look.  It  gave  me  a  curious  feeling;  and  I  was 
turning  to  go  away,  when  my  curiosity  got  the 
better  of  me,  and  I  just  determined  the  fellow 
should  speak  to  me  ;  so  I  faced  right  about,  and 
asked  what  came  into  my  mind  first. 

"  '  Are  you  in  want  of  anybody  or  anything  ?. ' ' 

"  Bravo,  Edith !  That  was  like  you,"  broke  in 
Rox. 

"  He  seemed  startled  and  confused  at  first. 

"  '  No ;  I  don't  wan't  anything,'  he  answered, 
in  a  hurried  way. 

"  I  turned  to  go.  I  can't  tell  what  made  me 
stop  and  ask  the  next  question ;  but  I  did." 

" '  Is  there  anything  in  the  world  you  want  ? 
anything  I  can  do  for  you  ? ' 

"  He  stared  at  me  a  moment  before  he  spoke. 

"  '  I  should  like  twenty-five  dollars,'  he  said." 

"  Well,  that  was  cool,"  broke  in  Rox  again, 
who  by  this  time  was  a  good  deal  interested  in 
Edith's  story. 

"I   thought  so.     If  he   had    asked  me   for  a 


32  ONLY  GIRLS. 

dollar,  or  even  two  of  them,  I  would  have  got. 
it  for  him ;  but  twenty-five  was,  of  course,  not 
to  be  thought  of.  It  struck  me  all  of  a  sudden 
that  the  fellow  might  be  crazy.  I  should  have 
run  off  then,  for  certain,  if  the  hedge  had  not 
been  between  us.  I  told  him  I  could  not  give 
him  anything  like  that ;  and  then,  feeling  that  he 
might  possibly  be  hungry,  I  added,  — 

"  '  But  I  will  bring  you  something  to  eat.' 

"  If  you  had  seen  the  bitter,  angry  smile  that 
came  into  his  face  ! 

"'I  ain't  a  beggar,'  he  said,  roughly;  'I  don't 
want  any  of  your  cold  pieces  ! ' : 

"  The  brute  !  "  exclaimed  Rox.  "  I  dare  say 
he  was  prowling  round  for  a  chance  to  help 
himself." 

"  I  don't  think  a  real  beggar  would  have  acted 
like  that,"  answered  Edith.  "  At  any  rate,  I 
told  him  I  had  not  supposed  he  was  one,  and  that 
he  must  excuse  me." 

"  You  did?  "  said  Rox,  with  an  amused  smile. 

"  Yes ;  for  I  was  afraid  I  had  hurt  his  feel- 
ings. His  whole  face  lightened  and  changed 
after  that. 

"  '  You  must  excuse  me,  too,'  he  said,  a  good 
deal  like  a  gentleman.  *  I  didn't  expect  you 


ONLY  GIRLS.  33 

-would  give  me  the  money.  The  words  came 
out  themselves ;  and  he  turned  at  that  and 
went  off. 

"Wasn't  it  all  very  curious,  Rox?" 

"  Hugely  so.  Fellow  either  crack-brained  or  a 
rogue.  Bet  you  my  new  gold  watch  on  that." 

"  I  cannot  feel  that  he  was  either,"  answered 
Edith,  with  a  little  grave  shake  of  her  glossy 
head.  "  Something,  Rox,  I  can't  tell  what, 
makes  me  feel  that  twenty-five  dollars  was  really 
a  matter  of  life  and  death  to  that  boy ;  that  he 
wanted  it,  as  you  and  I  have  sometimes  in  our 
lives  wanted  something,  and  for  which  we  would 
have  given  all  the  rest  of  the  world." 

"Ah,  Edith,  all  that  comes  of  your  being 
such  a  sensitive,  soft-hearted  little  puss.  When 
you  get  to  be  as  old  as  I  am,"  —  here  Rox  bridled 
a  little,  and  wiped  his  budding  mustache  with  an 
air.  — "  you  will  learn  that  it  doesn't  do  to  trust 
too  far  to  one's  impressions." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Edith,  rather  meekly  and 
rather  sceptically.  "  But,  Rox,  you  did  not  see 
what  I  did  —  the  look  in  that  boy's  eyes.  It 
meant  some  dreadful  trouble." 

Perhaps  Rox  was  slightly  impressed  by  Edith's 
story.  However,  he  shook  the  feeling  off  easily, 
3 


34  ONLY  GIRLS. 

as  ducks  do  water,  and  good-naturedly  set  him- 
self to  work  to  brighten  up  Edith. 

"  Whatever  it  was,  you  and  I  are  not  respon- 
sible, and  it  will  do  no  good  to  bother  your  sen- 
sitive little  soul  over  it." 

By  this  time  the  lunch  was  finished.  They  had 
both  left  the  table,  and  the  girl  was  looking  out 
of  the  window,  while  Rox,  restless  as  usual,  had 
taken  to  long  strides  up  and  down  the  room. 

"  It  puzzles  me,"  said  Edith,  half  to  herself. 

"What?"  asked  Rox,  coming  over  to  her 
side. 

"  Why  God  hasn't  made  things  better  than 
they  are." 

He  smiled  a  little  at  that.  Her  words  always 
went,  sabre-like,  with  clean,  smooth  stroke,  to  the 
core  of  a  thing. 

"  Philosophers  and  theologians  have  been  ask- 
ing that  question  ever  since  the  world  was 
made.  It's  a  great  boggle,  dear.  Don't  fret 
over  it." 

"But  how  can  one  help  doing  it,  Rox?  All 
the  plums  and  the  cake  falling  to  our  share,  and 
such  dry  crumbs  to  the  others — the  bigger  half, 
too." 

"I  know  it.     Sorry  for   'cm,  poor   souls.     But 


ONLT  GIRLS.  35 

I'm  not  Atlas:  I  don't  carry  the  world  on  my 
shoulders." 

"  It  seems  as  though  God  must  love  us  better 
than  he  does  them.  But,  as  he  is  God,  he  can- 
not do  that,  Rox.'' 

"  You  are  right  there,  Edith.  I  shouldn't  like 
to  believe  the  seeming  was  true  of  him,  even 
though  the  love  was  on  our  side.  But  you  forget 
that  the  difference  is  not  mostly  his  making.  It 
is  the  fault  of  the  people  themselves." 

"  There  is  a  great  deal  in  that,  I  know,  Rox. 
Yet  so  many  of  these  people  have  not  had  a 
chance ! " 

"Somebody's  fault  too,  may  be,  in  the  long 
run.  Things  sometimes  take  generations  to  work 
themselves  out.  But,  Edith,  if  you  go  on  shoot- 
ing those  hard  bullets  of  theology  at  me,  I  shall 
never  reach  Plum  Point  Station.  I  must  be  off 
straightway.  Clear  up  your  face  and  bid  me 
a  good  by  that  I  shall  carry  over  the  fifteen  miles 
of  road." 

"  O,  Rox,  what  a  big  goose  you  are  making 
of  yourself  to  take  this  awful  tramp !  But,  as 
you  will  do  it,  good  by,  and  God  speed." 

She  gave  him  both  her  hands.  He  took  the 
soft,  white  things  a  moment,  and  kissed  the  fair 


86  ONLT  GIRLS. 

cheek  with  brotherly,  cousinly  freedom.  She 
stood  in  the  front  door  and  watched  him  go  his 
way  through  the  dark  larches  and  cedars,  until  at 
last  he  reached  the  gate,  and  turning  there,  lifted 
his  hat  to  her,  and  went  his  way. 

Somebody  else  watched  him,  too.  It  was  the 
boy  whom  Edith  had  seen  that  morning  sitting 
by  the  hedge,  and  who  had  haunted  her  ever 
since. 

At  some  distance  from  the  girl's  residence  was 
a  small  hillock,  crowned  with  half  a  dozen  old, 
wide-spreading,  knarled  apple  trees.  Under  their 
shadow  the  boy  had  been  crouched  for  the  last 
hour,  watching  the  road,  of  which  his  position 
commanded  a  view.  From  his  hiding-place  the 
boy  saw  the  light,  alert  figure  going  down  to  the 
track.  A  few  minutes  afterwards  he,  too,  crept 
out  and  followed  Rox  Coventry. 

About  three  miles  from  Agawam  the  track  ran 
for  some  distance  through  a  kind  of  hollow 
formed  by  low,  wooded  hills  on  either  side. 
There  was  no  more  lonely  place  than  this  on  the 
whole  road,  which,  twelve  miles  below,  joined  the 
main  track  at  Plum  Point  Station. 

It  was  about  three  o'clock  as  Rox  Coventry 
reached  the  hollow.  He  remembered  the  time 


ONLT  GIRLS.  37 

afterwards,  because  he  happened  to  take  out  his 
watch  and  look  at  it.  The  place,  as  I  said,  was 
lonely  enough ;  a  narrow,  tunnel-like  perspective 
between  the  hills ;  not  a  house  in  sight. 

Rox  was  no  coward.  He  had  walked  the  three 
miles  briskly ;  had  been  humming  college  tunes 
and  making  all  sorts  of  plans  for  the  grand 
"  lark "  among  the  Adirondacks ;  and  some- 
times his  last  talk  with  his  cousin  Edith  had 
pushed  in  among  the  other  things,  and  made  a 
little  grave  background  to  them.  The  afternoon 
was  soft  and  still,  one  of  those  when  the  year 
seems  to  hold  her  breath,  and  turn  her  head  to 
listen,  as  though  she  caught  some  hint  of  frosts 
and  change  that  were  coming.  Soft,  low  clouds 
hung  all  over  the  sky,  of  a  clear  pearly-gray ; 
a  hum  of  insects  everywhere,  and  dreamings  of 
winds  among  the  leaves. 

Suddenly  Rox  Coventry  heard  steps  close  be- 
hind him.  He  had  always  had  remarkably  keen 
ears.  It  flashed  across  him  then,  for  the  first 
time,  that  the  road  was  lonely,  and  that  he  had 
brought  no  weapons  with  him.  He  turned 
suddenly,  and  encountered  a  figure  only  a  few 
feet  from  him,  and  evidently  approaching  stealth- 
ily ,  a  figure  in  gray,  slouching,  heavily-built, 


38  ONLY  GIRLS. 

with  a  square,  heavy  face,  too,  the  jaws  set  grim 
and  hard,  the  expression  just  now  dark  and  evil 
enough ;  but  of  this  last  Rox  did  not  get  the  full 
force,  for,  as  he  turned  sharply  about,  a  startled, 
guilty  look  broke  up  every  other  in  the  boy's 
face. 

Rox's  glance  going  over  the  figure  recognized  it 
at  once  as  identical  with  Edith's  description. 
Had  not  this  been  the  case,  there  was  something 
so  suspicious  in  the  stranger's  whole  appear- 
ance at  that  moment  that  it  must  have  struck 
Rox. 

But  it  never  once  occurred  to  him  that  this 
stealthy  approach  and  this  singular  attitude  must 
mean  something  sinister.  He  never  even  sus- 
pected that  the  stranger  had  been  silently  follow- 
ing him  all  the  way  from  Agawam.  He  only 
thought  it  was  a  curious  kind  of  chance  which 
had  brought  him  face  to  face  with  Edith's  de- 
scription. 

The  two  stood  in  the  road,  the  soft,  yellowish 
lights  from  the  clouds  upon  them,  the  dark  hollow 
stretching  beyond.  The  contrast  between  the 
two  was  worthy  an  artist  —  that  big,  slouching, 
rather  overgrown  figure,  and  the  slender,  well- 
shaped  student,  instinct  with  a  certain  grace,  even 


ONLY  GIRLS.  39 

in  repose :  the  difference  that  between  a  dray- 
horse  and  some  high-bred  courser. 

The  two  stood  a  moment  looking  at  each  other. 
They  had  been  brought  up  in  the  same  city, 
perhaps  not  three  miles  apart ;  they  had  watched 
the  same  shapes  of  clouds,  the  same  stars,  played 
in  the  same  snows,  and  stammered  the  same 
vernacular  in  their  childhood.  And  yet,  what  a 
different  world  it  had  been  to  those  two ! 

Then  Rox  called  out,  in  his  cheerful,  ringing 
voice,  — 

"  Is  there  anything  you  want  to  say  to  me  ?  " 

Still  that  surprised,  half-guilty  look  in  the  boy's 
eyes.  "Was  he  insane,  after  all?"  remembering 
his  impression  on  hearing  Edith's  story,  and  feel- 
ing a  little  uneasy. 

"No,  I  don't  want  anything,"  answered  the 
boy,  rather  suddenly. 

Rox  hesitated  a  moment ;  then  he  remembered 
that  he  had  no  time  to  spare,  and  plunged  off  into 
the  hollow. 

The  boy  stood  still,  staring  after  the  lithe  figure 
going  up  the  road.  His  hand  was  in  his  pocket, 
and  the  big,  cold  fingers  were  fumbling  about 
a  pistol  there.  His  face  was  livid  under  the  tan 
and  pimples. 


40  ONLY  GIRLS. 

Keefe  Bartlett  —  there  is  no  need  I  should  tell 
you  it  was  he — had  come  all  this  way  to  find 
Rox  Coventry.  He  could  not  give  up  his  pur- 
pose now ;  and  yet,  for  a  moment  after  the  stran- 
ger's kindly  question,  which  still  seemed  to  linger 
among  the  soft  humming  of  the  purple  bees  in  the 
grasses,  Keefe  was  more  than  half  a  mind  to  send 
the  pistol  off  at  his  own  temples,  Then  the  old 
evil  look  came  into  his  face  again. 

"  I  won't  turn  poltroon  now,"  he  muttered, 
with  an  oath.  "I  came  out  here  for  that  fel- 
low's money;  and  I'll  have  it,  or  die;"  and  he 
started  up  the  road. 

Rox,  moving  rapidly  along,  was  having  his 
thoughts,  with  no  little  sparkling  interludes  of 
college  airs  this  time. 

"  What  if  it  was  all  true,  that  which  Edith 
had  said,  and  the  twenty-five  dollars  was  a 
matter  of  life  and  death  to  this  boy  ?  Curious, 
how  he  had  turned  up  in  the  road  at  this  junc- 
ture !  " 

Rox  thought  of  the  pile  of  notes  stuffed  away 
in  his  vest  pocket. 

"  It  would  be  an  easy  thing  to  take  out  twenty- 
five  dollars,  and  go  back  and  put  it  into  the  boy's 
hands.  What  if  he  should  make  a  fool  of  him- 


ONLY  GIRLS.  41 

self,  and  do  it  now?  for,  of  course,  none  but  a 
fool  would  do  so  absurd  a  thing!  Yet,  if  Rox 
were  as  certain  about  the  matter  as  his  pretty 
cousin  seemed  to  be,  he  would  try  the  ex- 
periment. 

"  Suppose  he  should  do  it  now  ?  Of  course 
it  would  be  an  awful  sell ;  but  then  Rox  would 
hardly  feel  it.  There  was  just  time  to  go  back 
and  do  the  thing,  and  it  was  only  a  little  rather 
expensive  fun,  after  all,  and  nobody's  business 
but  his  own." 

These  thoughts  and  a  good  many  more  like 
them  went  swiftly  through  the  mind  of  Rox 
Coventry,  underneath  all,  that  soft  place  which 
Edith's  talk  had  touched  that  morning.  Rox 
was  half  ashamed  of  it,  tried  to  invest  the  whole 
thing  with  an  air  of  cool  fun.  But  of  a  sudden 
the  youth  whirled  about. 

There,  close  behind  him,  with  his  swift, 
stealthy  pace,  was  the  boy  again.  But  Rox  was 
too  intent  on  his  errand  to  be  startled  a  second 
time.  The  two  were  almost  in  the  heart  of  the 
hollow,  the  wooded  hills  rising  darkly  on  either 
side,  and  overhead  the  gray,  smoky-looking 
clouds. 

Rox   walked   straight    up   to   the    boy,   whose 


42  -  ONLY  GIRLS. 

face,  just  now,  hardly  improved  on  acquaint- 
ance. 

"  Are  you  the  boy  who  told  a  young  girl  at 
Agawam  this  morning  that  you  wanted  twenty- 
five  dollars?" 

The  big  face  was  a  blank  of  surprise  for  a 
moment  or  two.  The  fierce,  evil  look  with  which 
he  was  approaching  his  intended  victim  wholly 
disappeared. 

"  Yes,"  in  a  husky,  half-frightened  voice ;  but 
his  eyes  held  to  his  questioner's ;  "I  said  that 
to  her." 

"I  should  like  to  know — I've  a  reason  for 
asking  —  what  do  you  intend  to  do  with  this 
money,  if  you  could  get  it." 

A  smile,  dark  and  bitter  enough,  struggled 
over  the  big  mouth. 

"  I  don't  think  it  would  take  long  to  tell ; 
but  —  I  ain't  a  beggar,"  with  a  sudden  fierce- 
ness. 

"  No ;  I  did  not  take  you  for  one ;  but,"  with 
a  frank  cordiality  of  manner  which  made  Rox 
Coventry  the  favorite  he  was  with  everybody, 
"  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  just  how  much  money 
you  have  in  the  world.  Don't  think  I  am  rude, 
and,  if  it  does  not  please  you,  don't  do  it." 


ONLT  GIRLS.  43 

Something  in  the  frank,  pleasant  manner  half 
compelled  Keefe  Bartlett  against  his  will.  He 
put  his  hand  into  his  pocket,  —  he  had  dropped 
something  in  the  grass  a  moment  before,  —  and 
drew  out  twenty  cents.  With  some  vague  sense 
of  conscience  which  haunted  the  poor,  tempted 
soul,  the  boy  had  settled  with  his  landlady  before 
he  started  out  on  his  errand  of  crime. 

"Is  that  all?"  exclaimed  Rox,  touched  and 
shocked. 

"  That  is  all." 

"  And  you  have  no  way  to  get  any  more  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Poor  fellow !  Been  at  work  at  the  cotton- 
mills?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  you  shall  have  the  twenty-five  dol- 
lars. But,  mind,  I  don't  think  .you  are  a  beg- 
gar," giving  the  turned-off  hand  a  friendly 
little  slap  on  the  shoulder ;  and  then,  taking 
out  his  wallet,  Rox  counted  over  the  money, 
—  a  couple  of  tens  and  a  five,  —  and  put  it 
in  Keefe's  hand.  "There!"  he  said;  "much 
good  may  it  do  you.  Haven't  time  for  another 
word.  Good  by."  And  with  the  instinctive 
grace  which  is  apt  to  follow  a  good  action,  Rox 


44  ONLY  GIRLS. 

lifted  his  hat  to  the  mill  hand,  and  hurried 
off  down  the  road  again,  leaving  Keefe  stand- 
ing in  the  hollow,  with  the  purple  bees  hum- 
ming in  the  grasses,  and  the  great,  smoke- 
tinged  clouds  overhead ;  and  over  all  these, 
I  like  to  think,  the  glad  faces  of  God's  angels 
on  the  watch. 


ONLY  GIRLS.  45 


CHAPTER    III. 

COVENTRY,  going  at  a  brisk  pace, 
felt  a  hand  suddenly  on  his  shoulder. 
He  was,  perhaps,  half  a  mile  from  the 
spot  where  the  singular  interview  had  taken 
place  between  himself  and  Keefe  Bartlett.  He  did 
turn  around  now  with  a  start,  and  something  much 
like  a  shudder,  and  confronted  the  youth  again. 

This  time  Keefe's  face  was  white  —  the  pal- 
lor striking  through  the  tan  and  freckles,  while 
the  eyes  had  a  bright,  scared  stare,  as  they  met 
Rox  Coventry's. 

"Was —  Did  you  hear  anything  telling  you 
to  give  me  that  money?"  Keefe  panted  out  in  a 
hurried,  frightened  way. 

"  No.  I  shall  take  all  the  credit  of  that  act  to 
myself.  No  doubt  there  is  many  a  one  I  should 
be  glad  to  slip  off,  on  other  shoulders,  although 
mine  are  tolerably  broad,"  shaking  them  in  his 
comical  fashion. 


46  ONLY  GIRLS. 

"  You  are  sure  you  didn't  hear  anything  speak- 
ing to  you  out  of  the  sky,  or  woods,  or  round?  " 
inquired  Keefe,  in  a  voice  hardly  above  his 
breath. 

Rox  caught  the  meaning  in  a  moment.  It 
might  be  some  old  ghostly  ballad  of  the  streets, 
or  it  might  be  the  superstitious  element  which 
lurks  somewhere  in  all  human  souls,  was  at  work 
in  this  boy's  brain.  Rox  was  touched  a  little,  and 
a  good  deal  amused. 

"  No,  there  wasn't  a  whisper  of  a  ghost  around, 
nor  so  much  as  the  tip  end  of  an  angel's  feather 
in  sight.  What  put  that  absurd  notion  into  your 
head,  my  dear  fellow?  " 

"  But  what  made  you  give  me  that  money, 
then?"  persisted  Keefe,  in  the  strangest  kind  of 
voice.  I  know  of  no  word  which  precisely  de- 
scribes it,  only  you  felt  it  was  a  life-and-death 
matter  to  him. 

"  On  my  honor,  I  can't  tell  you,"  said  Rox, 
running  his  fingers  through  his  hair.  "  Every- 
body has  his  soft  streaks,  you  know.  Perhaps  this 
was  one  of  mine.  Come,  don't  stare  at  me  like 
that.  Take  the  money  and  have  a  jolly  time 
with  it." 

Then,   remembering    there    was    not    another 


ONLY  GIRLS.  47 

breath  to  lose,  Rox  wheeled  about,  without  a 
word  more,  and  set  off  rapidly  for  Plum  Point 
Station. 

Keefe  stood  in  the  road  and  watched  him  until 
the  swift,  lithe  figure  was  quite  out  of  sight.  The 
young  workman  made  a  picture  himself,  —  not 
a  handsome  one,  certainly,  but  striking  of  its  own 
kind,  —  with  his  lips  apart,  and  his  hands  fum- 
bling at  each  other,  and  his  big,  strongly -knit 
frame  standing  there  in  the  hot  road,  like  some 
coarsely-hewn  statue. 

Then  he  wheeled  about  suddenly,  wiping  off 
with  his  coat  sleeve  some  thick  drops  of  perspira- 
tion which  had  gathered  among  the  moles  and 
freckles  ;  and  then  —  it  was  very  curious  —  he 
turned  and  went  back  to  the  very  spot  where 
Rox,  ten  minutes  before,  had  given  him  the 
money,  and  which  he  still  held  tightly  clasped  in 
his  hand. 

He  sank  down  in  the  warm  sand  close  by  the 
track ;  he  spread  the  notes  out  on  his  knee,  care- 
fully smoothing  the  edges,  and  counting  them 
over  one  by  one,  with  eyes  that  had  a  strange, 
bright  glitter  in  them ;  then  he  looked  up 
suddenly  into  the  great,  drab  masses  of  clouds 
overhead. 


48  ONLY  GIRLS. 

"O  God,"  he  cried  out  sharply,  "if  You  are 
up  there,  look  down  and  see  that  —  You  know 
I  meant  to  kill  him,  and  that  it  saved  me,  and 
saved  him,  too  —  the  kind,  generous  fellow — " 

Keefe  broke  right  off,  something  that-was  like 
a  howl  ending  in  a  great,  gulping  sob.  He  laid 
his  square  face  in  his  big  hands,  flopped  right 
over,  with  about  as  much  grace  as  a  polar-bear, 
stretched  himself  at  full  length  on  the  ground, 
while  a  great  tempest  of  tears  and  sobs  shook  him 
from  head  to  foot. 

He  lay  there  for  a  full  half  hour,  wallowing  in 
the  warm  sand,  while  that  salt  rain  poured  down 
his  cheeks;  and  some  hardness,  and  pain,  and 
bitterness  were  wept  out  of  Keefe  Bartlett's  heart 
at  that  time  which  never  got  back  to  it  again. 

He  might  live  to  be  a  gray,  sodden-faced  old 
man,  but  he  would  never  forget  that  hour  until 
the  grave  shut  it  away  from  him  in  soft,  dark 
silence,  and  perhaps  not  then. 

At  last  Keefe  rose  up,  wiping  his  red,  swollen 
eyes  with  his  cotton  handkerchief,  staring  all 
around  him,  as  though  it  was  a  new  world  lie 
gazed  on,  or  as  though  he  had  been  suddenly 
caught  up  and  landed  in  some  corner  of  the 
moon. 


ONLY  GIRLS.  49 

Then  Keefe's  eyes  caught  a  bright  glitter  of 
something  lying  amongst  a  fringe  of  weeds  close 
to  the  track.  He  shuddered  and  drew  his 
breath  hard,  as  though  he  had  caught  sight  of 
the  scales  of  some  deadly  serpent  lying  in  wait 
there.  The  next  moment  he  sprang  to  his  feet, 
snapped  his  grim  jiuvs  together,  and  snatched  up 
the  pistol  wliich  lay  there  amongst  the  weeds,  and 
with  which  he  had  meant  to  — 

Keefe's  thoughts  turned  away  from  the  black 
conclusion,  and  so  my  pen  shall. 

It  was  a  full  half  mile  to  the  river.  Keefe  went 
all  the  way  on  a  swift  run,  and  when  he  reached 
the  bank  he  tossed  the  pistol  into  the  waters,  and 
a  smile  of  unutterable  relief  and  triumph  came 
into,  his  face  as  he  saw  them  close  over  it  and 
bury  the  tiling  from  his  sight. 

He  did  not  return  to  the  track  afterwards.  He 
took  the  river  road  now,  which  wound  through 
the  broad,  low  pastures,  and  past  old  mills,  and 
through  belts  of  .woodlands. 

What  a  changed  world  it  was  to  this  Keefe 
Bartlett,  late  from  the  city  slums  and  the  factory 
looms !  How  new,  and  fair,  and  sweet  all  na- 
ture smiled  on  him.  It  seemed  as  though  she 
understood  all  about  it,  and  was  glad  for  him ! 

4 
f 


50  ONLY  GIRLS. 

He  did  not  feel  any  longer  solitary  and  shut  out 
from  all  the  beauty  and  gladness,  but  as  though 
he  had  his  place  and  share  in  it.  He  heard  the 
twitter  of  the  robins,  the  happy  gurgle  of  winds 
among  the  leaves,  as  though  they  broke  up  and 
died  away  in  dreams,  the  hum  of  insects  in  the 
grass,  and  sometimes  the  sun  almost  came  out  of 
the  clouds  overhead  to  look  at  him,  holding  only 
the  thinnest  yellow  gauze  of  vapor  before  her  face, 
and  then  slipping  behind  the  soft  gray  masses  of 
cloud. 

All  these  things  Keefe  observed  curiously ;  all 
made  liim  strangely  happy.  The  heart  within 
him  seemed  changed  to  a  child's  heart.  Some- 
times he  turned  somersaults,  sometimes  he  leaped 
over  stone  walls,  or  lay  down  on  the  grass,  or, 
springing  up,  ran  and  shouted  until  he  was  out 
of  breath,  and  was  like  a  child  let  loose  on  its 
first  holiday.  But  for  the  most  part  Keefe  was 
quiet.  There  was  a  great,  still  gladness  at  his 
heart,  and  the  tears  kept  swelling  in  his  eyes, 
and  he  would  wipe  them  away  with  his  coat 
sleeve. 

Every  little  while,  too,  he  would  thrust  his 
hand  in  his  pocket,  and  feel  the  small  roll  there, 
which  meant  so  much  more  than  money  to  him. 


ONLT  GIRLS.  51 

Keefe  was  just  as  much  alone  in  the  world  as 
ever;  the  future  was  precisely  the  same  dark, 
looming  future  which  it  had  always  been  to  Keefe 
Bartlett ;  but  a  new  faith  and  trust  had  entered 
into  him.  He  was  not  troubled  or  afraid  any 
more.  The  love  which  had  taken  the  leaves, 
and  birds,  and  the  great  world  into  its  strong, 
tender  care,  had  taken  him  also.  He  felt  it  all 
around  him.  In  the  blackest  moment  of  his  life 
it  had  reached  out  suddenly  and  snatched  him  out 
of  the  very  grasp  of  the  devil. 

And  sometimes  the  pinched,  sallow  face  of  his 
mother  rose  up  before  him,  and  he  wondered  if 
she  knew  and  was  glad  for  her  boy. 

So  Keefe  wandered  along  hour  after  hour,  until 
the  afternoon  was  nearly  gone.  He  had  no  ob- 
ject in  view,  no  aim  of  any  sort  that  he  was  con- 
scious of.  He  had  money  to  pay  for  his  night's 
lodging  at  some  country  tavern ;  or,  if  the  worst 
came,  he  could  throw  himself  down  in  the  shelter 
of  some  big,  motherly  tree,  and  drop  into  a  sleep 
which  many  a  pampered  rich  man  might  envy. 

At  last  he  came  where  the  road  forked.  He 
took  the  right  one,  went  a  few  rods,  and  then, 
without  any  reason  that  he  was  conscious  of, 
suddenly  faced  about  and  took  the  left  road.  It 


52  ONLT  GIRLS. 

passed  pleasant,  old-fashioned  farm-houses  occa- 
sionally, the  smoke  curling  in  blue,  vaporous-look- 
ing clouds  above  the  wide-mouthed  chimneys, 
and  hollyhocks  and  dahlias  abloom  in  the  front 
yards. 

Poor  Keefe !  With  that  twenty-five  dollars 
stowed  away  in  his  pocket,  he  was  richer  than 
he  had  ever  been  in  all  his  life  before ;  and  he  had 
a  feeling  that  the  world  belonged  to  him,  which 
is,  perhaps,  very  much  pleasanter  than  the  real 
ownership  would  prove. 

He  was  moving  up  a  long,  sloping  stretch  of 
hill,  with  cornfields  on  either  side,  when,  all  of 
a  sudden,  Keefe  stood  still.  He  had  heard  a  cry, 
not  loud,  but  there  was  some  sound  in  it  of 
human  pain  and  fright. 

In  a  moment  he  heard  the  cry  again,  this  time 
a  little  louder,  and  he  sprang  over  the  bars  and 
hurried  through  the  cornfields  in  the  direction  of 
the  sound. 

An  old,  broken  stone-wall  divided  the  corn- 
field from  a  lane,  whence  the  cries  proceeded, 
growing  louder  and  shriller  with  terror  as  Keefe 
approached  them.  It  was  the  cry  of  a  girl,  he 
was  certain  of  that,  as  he  plunged  through  the 
grassy  lane  and  under  the  deep  shadows  of  the 


ONLT  GIRLS.  53 

scraggy  wild-cherry  trees,  which  had  evidently 
taken  root  and  flourished  on  their  own  re- 
sponsibility. 

At  the  point  where  the  lane  broadened  stood  a 
deserted  old  farm-house.  It  was  a  desolate  place 
enough,  as,  at  the  best,  all  country  houses  are, 
left  to  mice  and  spiders,  and  given  up  to  the 
carnival  of  winds  and  rains.  The  blackened 
roof  had  fallen  in  more  or  less;  the  doors  had 
been  carried  away,  and  the  wooden  blinds 
creaked  and  flapped  in  the  winds  which  roamed, 
in  a  pitying  mood,  about  the  lonely  premises, 
and  made  the  rafters  and  timbers  quiver,  as 
though  with  old,  plaintive  memories  of  the  hu- 
man life  they  had  once  sheltered  and  cherished. 

The  shrill  cries,  convulsed  with  pain  or  fright, 
were  close  at  hand  now.  Keefe  made  a  dive 
around  to  the  back  of  the  house,  his  ears  keen 
and  strained  as  a  blood -hound's.  There  was  an 
old  well  here,  and  a  mouldy  worm-eaten  curb  on 
one  side.  A  pair  of  meagre  brown  hands  clutched 
frantically  at  the  boards,  and  a  bit  of  glossy 
brown  hair  showed  just  above  them. 

Keefe  took  in  the  whole  with  one  glance.  In  a 
flash  he  was  at  the  side  of  the  well.  It  was  an 
awful  sight. .  There  the  little  girl  hung  by  those 


' 


54  ONLY  GIRLS. 

brown  sticks  of  arms,  and  twenty  feet  below,  the 
black,  still  circle  of  water  waited  to  take  her 
down  into  its  cold  heart.  It  could  not  have  many 
moments  longer  to  wait.  The  child's  strength 
was  almost  exhausted  by  this  time.  Every  in- 
stant threatened  to  be  her  last.  She  clung 
to  the  curb  with  the  energy  of  despair.  It 
was  wonderful  that  her  strength  had  not  failed 
before. 

"  There,  hold  on ! "  shouted  Keefe,  as  a 
louder  shriek  than  ever  smote  the  still  air. 
"  Don't  you  see  I'm  here  ?  And  I've  come  to 
save  you." 

The  girl  looked  up  as  well  as  she  could.  Keefe 
saw  a  small,  thin,  freckled  face,  with  a  pair  of 
big  dark  eyes,  fiercely  bright  now  with  their 
agony  of  terror. 

Had  a  voice  from  heaven  spoken  to  the  girl 
it  could  not  have  sounded  sweeter  than  Keefe's 
loud,  coarse  tones,  with  the  pity  and  the  help 
all  through  them ;  and  the  square,  heavy  face, 
with  the  world  of  sympathy  in  the  light  deep-set 
eyes  which  leaned  over  the  well,  looked  more 
beautiful  to  the  child  at  that  moment  than  any 
face  she  had  ever  seen  in  her  life. 

There  was  a  quick,  gasping  sob.     In  the  sudden 


ONLY  GIRLS.  55 

revulsion  of  feeling,  she  came  very  near  losing  her 
hold.  The  small,  frightened  creature  could  not 
utter  one  word. 

It  required  steady  nerves  and  swift  hands  now. 
Keefe  had  both.  He  got  down  on  his  knees, 
leaned  his  big,  shambling  body  far  over  the 
shaking  well-curb,  which  threatened  to  break 
every  moment  with  the  child's  weight,  light  as 
that  was.  It  was  all  the  work  of  an  instant.  He 
put  his  hands  under  the  girl's  arms,  and  grasped 
them  with  all  his  firm  strength. 

"Now,  let  go  the  boards,  and  put  your  arms 
tight  around  my  neck.  Don't  be  frightened.  I'll 
have  you  out  of  this  fix  before  you  know  it." 

The  voice,  full  of  kindly,  helpful  courage,  sent 
its  own  confidence  to  the  fluttering  heart.  "With 
a  last  shudder  of  fright  and  hope,  the  girl  with- 
drew one  arm  and  grasped  the  young  man's  neck, 
then  the  other  closed  around  him,  and  the  warm, 
meagre  arms  clung  to  him  as  the  dying  cling  to 
their  deliverer. 

The  rest  was  easily  done.  Keefe  lifted  the 
little  figure,  with  all  possible  care,  over  the  well- 
curb,  and  set  it  down  on  the  grass  among  the 
sweet-smelling  mint. 

But  the  strain  had  been  too  great.   With  a  little 


56  ONLY  GIRLS. 

moaning  gasp,  the  child's  head  fell  back  on  the 
ground.  She  had  fainted  quite  away.  Keefe  was 
terribly  frightened  for  a  moment,  the  white,  set 
lips  looked  so  much  like  the  dead.  But  his  fears 
took  at  once  the  form  of  practical  help.  He 
twisted  a  big  mullein  leaf  into  a  cup,  and  filled 
this  with  cool  water  from  a  little  stream  among 
the  weeds,  and  swabbed  the  child's  forehead  in 
the  kindest,  clumsiest  way. 

When  the  water  trickled  down  between  her 
lips,  she  opened  her  eyes,  and  saw  the  face  bend- 
ing over  her  which  had  leaned  over  the  well  in 
that  moment  of  awful  agony,  and  which  had 
looked  fair  in  her  eyes  as  though  it  was  the 
shining  face  of  some  angel  which  God  had  sent 
to  rescue  her. 

"There;  you  feel  better  now  —  don't  you?" 
with  a  smile.  If  you  had  seen  that,  you  would 
have  wondered  at  the  mystery  of  change  which 
the  smile  wrought  in  that  homely  face. 

She  stared  at  him  a  moment  in  blank  bewilder- 
ment ;  then  she  lifted  up  her  head,  shot  a  swift 
glance  around  her  and  off  to  the  well,  and,  with 
a  little  shuddering  cry,  grasped  hold  of  Keefe's 
arm  with  her  small  claws  of  fingers. 


ONLT  GIRLS.  57 

"  Never  mind  now ;  it's  all  over,  you  see,  and 
here  you  are,  safe  and  sound." 

She  was  too  much  exhausted  for  any  stormy 
burst  of  feeling,  but  she  kept  staring  at  him  with 
the  big  dark  eyes,  out  of  which  the  great  tears 
kept  oozing  and  trickling  down  the  thin  cheeks ; 
and  still  she  clung  to  him  with  both  hands.  The 
sight  moved  Keefe  to  the  heart.  He  wiped  away 
the  tears  with  a  corner  of  the  child's  buff  apron, 
noticing  for  the  first  time  how  nice  and  tasteful 
everything  was  about  her. 

" It  was  lucky  I  heard  you  scream  —  wasn't  it? 
I  was  in  the  road,  across  the  fields,  when  I  heard 
the  first  cry,  and,  you  better  believe,  I  made 
tracks  for  it.  Wasn't  I  just  in  the  nick  of  time, 
though?  Come,  now,  I  wouldn't  shed  another 
tear  over  it." 

"  It  was  so  dreadful !  "  said  the  small  quivering 
lips.  "  I  am  such  a  very  little  girl,  you  know." 

"  Yes,  I  know ;  a  very  little  girl,  but  a  very 
brave  one,  too." 

At  that  a  little  light  came  into  the  tear-filled 
eyes. 

"  But  the  water  looked  so  dark,  shining  there 
below,  and  I  thought  I  was  going  to  be  drowned 
in  it." 


58  ONLY  GIRLS. 

"  Well,  you  wasn't ;  so  the  thoughts  wasn't 
true  that  time,  you  see." 

"  But  they  came  so  close  to  being ! " 

"  If  they  did,  a  miss  is  as  good  as  a  mile, 
you  know." 

A  bit  of  an  amused  smile  came  out  on  the  child's 
lips.  The  big  eyes  stared  in  a  pleased,  trustful 
way  at  Keefe. 

"Where  did  you  come  from?"  she  asked, 
curiously. 

"  O,  from  a  place  they  call  Agawam,  a  great 
ways  off." 

"  O,  I  know.  Uncle  Richard  has  business  there 
sometimes  at  the  mills.  He  is  going  to  take  me 
over  to  see  them  some  time,  and  the  big  looms, 
and  the  folks  at  work  at  them." 

"  You'll  find  it  worth  going  to  see,"  glad  to 
perceive  that  her  thoughts,  like  all  children's, 
slipped  so  easily  away  from  the  terror  through 
which  she  had  passed,  and  noticing  the  flush  com- 
ing back  to  the  thin  lips. 

In  a  moment,  however,  her  face  grew  grave 
again. 

"It  was  very  funny!" 

"What?" 

"  That  you  happened  to  be  passing  the  corn- 


ONLY  GIRLS.  f>9 

fields,  and  ho;ird  me  cry.  I  think  God  must  have 
sent  yon.  Pie  does  tilings  sometimes,  yon  know." 

"  Yes,  I  know  he  does,"  Keefe  answered  very 
gravely,  remembering  what  had  happened  a  few 
hours  ago. 

'*  Uncle  Richard  will  take  me  on  his  knee,  and 
say,  it  was  God  did  it,  for  certain,  when  I  come 
to  tell  him.  But  I  forgot.  You  don't  know  who 
uncle  Richard  is." 

A  few  questions  drew  from  the  child  some  very 
straightforward  passages  of  autobiography,  and 
the  circumstances  which  had  brought  her  into  the 
peril  from  which  Keefe  had  rescued  her. 

The  child  was  returning  from  her  grand- 
mother's, with  whom  she  had  been  to  pass  the 
da}*,  with  a  small  basket  of  damsons,  and,  instead 
of  keeping  the  main  road,  she  had  taken  a  short 
cut  across  the  lots  and  the  cornfields. 

An  old,  ruined  building  has  always  a  wonderful 
attraction  to  a  child's  imagination.  The  girl 
wandered  around  this  a  while,  and  then  went 
to  see  if  she  could  find  her  face  down  in  the  dark 
blue  mirror  of  the  well.  Leaning  far  over  the 
low  curb,  she  became  dizzy,  and  lost  her  balance. 
As  she  fell  over,  she  clutched  the  boards,  and 
hung  there,  probably  not  more  than  two  minutes, 


60  ONLY  GIRLS. 

although  the  time  seemed  hours  to  her.  All 
things  considered,  her  escape  did  savor  of  the 
miraculous. 

Keefe  would  not  let  her  dwell  011  it  long,  for 
the  small  face  was  growing  white,  and  the  small 
figure  chilled  and  shuddering,  as  she  went  over 
with  the  scene.  Keefe  found  the  hat  which  the 
child  had  taken  off  and  dropped  in  the  grass 
before  she  surveyed  herself  in  the  well.  It  was 
very  amusing  to  see  the  dainty  way  in  which  she 
smoothed  the  fresh  blue  ribbons,  and  the  air  of 
anxiety  with  which,  after  perching  the  hat  on 
that  glossy  brown  head,  she  asked  his  opinion 
about  its  appearance. 

He  assured  her  that  it  looked  as  though  it 
had  come  straight  from  the  show-window  of  the 
milliner,  on  which  the  child  drew  a  long  breath 
of  immense  relief  and  delight. 

"What  is  your  name?"  she  asked,  in  a 
moment. 

"Keefe  Bartlett." 

"  O,  what  a  funny  one !  Where  did  you 
get  it  ?  " 

"  I  got  it  long  before  I  can  remember ;  and 
I  hadn't  any  choice  in  it.  What  is  your  name, 
little  girl?" 


ONLT  GIRLS.  61 

"  Bessie  Staines  ;  nine  years  old  last  May." 

"  Well,  the  sun  is  getting  behind  the  hill,  and 
it  will  be  night  before  long.  Can't  you  manage 
to  walk  now?" 

She  got  up  with  Keefe's  help ;  but  once  on  her 
feet,  she  was  quite  equal  to  taking  care  of 
herself. 

"Have  you  very  far*to  walk?" 

"  Three  quarters  of  a  mile  up  the  road  to  Creek 
Furiii.  That's  where  we  live." 

"  That  is  my  way,  too ;  so  I  will  go  along 
with  you." 

They  found  the  little  covered  basket,  with  the 
great  purple  damsons  inside,  under  the  old  apple- 
tree  where  the  girl  had  left  it.  Bessie  insisted  on 
Keefe's  helping  himself  to  these ;  and  such  juicy, 
honeyed  ripeness  had  never  crossed  his  lips  and 
cooled  his  palate  before. 

Then  they  took  the  basket  between  them  and 
started  off.  Bessie  had  by  this  time  largely  re- 
covered from  her  fright,  and  chattered  on  to  her 
friend  as  though  she  had  known  him  all  her  life. 

In  the  course  of  her  talk  it  transpired  that  her 
father  had  died  several  years  before,  and  that  she 
lived  with  her  mother  and  her  uncle  Richard 
Staines,  who  was  a  widower,  and  had  no  children 


62  ONLY  GIRLS. 

of  his  own.  But  it  was  evident  enough  that  this 
uncle  had  managed  to  gain  a  father's  full  share  in 
the  heart  and  admiration  of  his  little  niece,  Bessie 
Staines. 

Somehow,  as  she  talked,  Keefe's  heart  warmed 
singularly  towards  this  stranger,  whose  face  he 
had  never  seen.  If  he  had  only  had  such  a  father 
or  such  an  uncle,  Keefe  fancied  it  would  have  all 
been  so  different  with  him !  It  did  not  seem 
difficult  now  for  Keefe  Bartlett  to  believe  there 
were  kind,  generous  people  in  the  world. 

And  the  little  girl,  with  her  small,  thin  face, 
and  the  wonderful  eyes,  which  had  the  purplish 
glow  of  the  damsons  in  the  basket,  went  on  chat- 
tering to  him  like  the  soft  rustle  of  a  brook  wind- 
ing and  cooing  among  the  reeds.  She  told  him 
about  the  wax  doll  with  the  wonderful  eyes, 
which  uncle  Richard  had  brought  from  the  city 
last  Christmas,  and  which  was  quite  too  large  to 
go  in  her  stocking ;  so  they  had  to  substitute  one 
of  his ;  and  of  the  pretty  China  tea-set  —  white, 
with  a  rim  of  crimson — which  he  had  given  her  on 
her  last  birthday ;  and  the  child's  voice  clung  with 
a  dainty  lisp  to  the  sibilants,  and  slipped  with 
a  little  musical  tinkle  among  the  liquids. 

Poor  Keefe !    no  fresh,  innocent  child's   heart 


ONLY  GIRLS.  63 

and  thought  had  ever  unveiled  themselves  to  him 
before.  It  half  seemed,  as  he  moved  along  the 
old  country  roads,  with  the  barberry  bushes  and 
the  flaming  plumes  of  golden-rod  on  either  hand, 
that  an  angel  was  walking  by  his  side.  If  that 
small,  freckled,  spare-faced  Bessie  Staines,  whose 
only  beauty  was  her  wonderful  plum-purplish 
eyes,  had  blossomed  out  suddenly  with  great 
silver  wings,  he  would  hardly  have  been  amazed. 

At  last  she  grew  silent,  gazing  up  into  his  face  ; 
and  when  he  looked  down  into  hers  a  little  smile 
came  about  Keefe's  lips,  and  the  little  girl 
smiled  back  in  turn,  a  bright,  trusting  smile, 
which  went  away  down  into  Keefe's  heart  and 
warmed  it. 

"I  was  thinking  what  a  good  man  you  must 
be,"  she  said. 

""What  made  you  think  that,  child?"  greatly 
touched  and  pleased. 

"  Because  you  started  right  off  to  find  me,  just 
as  soon  as  you  heard  my  cry,  and  knew  somebody 
was  in  trouble.  If  you  had  been  a  bad  man  you 
would  have  passed  right  on  and  not  minded. 
Don't  you  see?" 

"I  don't  see  that  I  am  a  good  man,  Bessie," 
an  unutterable  plaintiveness  in  his  voice,  as  he 


64  ONLY  GIRLS. 

remembered  how  very  near  lie  had  come  to  one 
deed  that  day. 

The  child  instinctively  felt  the  pain  in  Keefe's 
voice.  She  could  not  have  put  her  feeling  into 
words,  but  she  unconsciously  drew  nearer  to  him, 
with  a  vague  desire  to  do  something  for  him,  she 
could  not  tell  what,  and  her  big,  bright  eyes  kept 
themselves  on  his  face. 

"  Well,  do  I  look  like  a  good  man  ?  " 

He  was  sorry  after  the  words  were  out.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  the  child's  pure  instinct  must 
penetrate  to  the  evil  which  lay  at  the  bottom  of 
Keefe's  soul.  He  would  have  shrunk  and  turned 
away,  but  she  held  him  by  those  wonderful, 
searching  eyes.  He  half  felt  as  though  he  stood 
in  the  presence  of  some  sibyl,  who  was  to  utter 
his  doom,  only  Keefe  had  never  heard  of  tripods, 
and  oracles,  and  things  of  that  sort. 

In  a  few  moments  the  answer  came.  The  child 
was  not  conscious  of  it ;  but  she  felt  the  pain  and 
mournfulness  in  Keefe's  eyes  as  he  returned 
her  gaze. 

"  Yes,  you  do  look  like  a  good  man ;  and  I 
know  you  are  one.  Nobody  in  the  whole  world 
could  make  me  believe  anything  else  of  you," 
the  thin  face  flushing  with  excitement. 


ONLY  GIRLS.  65 

K  refe  fairly  hugged  himself  with  a  sudden  joy. 
After  all,  this  child's  fine,  pure  instinct  found 
something  good  in  him.  It  must  be  there,  then. 
He,  too,  would  find  it  for  himself.  From  that 
hour  the  Agawam  mill-hand  rose  into  some  new 
sense  of  manliness,  courage,  self-respect. 

At  that  moment  the  two  reached  the  summit 
of  a  long  hill,  and  the  farm-house  stood  full  in 
view  —  a  wide,  ample,  gray  old  homestead,  with 
a  blue  drift  of  smoke  above  the  chimney,  and  the 
cows  in  the  side-yard,  and  the  orchard  at  the 
back,  and,  a  little  way  off,  the  steely  gleam  of  the 
creek,  which  had  given  its  name  to  the  farm. 

"  That's  my  home,"  said  the  child,  with  a  spring 
of  pleasure.  "  You  will  come  along,  too ;  and  I 
can  tell  them  what  you  have  done  for  me,  and 
they  will  like  you  so  much !  Uncle  Richard  will 
lay  his  hand  on  your  head  and  bless  you." 

How  Keefe  longed  to  go  I  How  like  Arcadia, 
how  like  the  very  golden  gate  of  Paradise  itself, 
the  wide,  motherly  old  farm-house  looked  to  the 
friendless,  solitary  youth ! 

But  Keefe  did  not  know  the  hearts  inside,  and 
did  not  suspect  he  had  that  day  done  a  deed 
which  would  give  him  a  life-long  claim  on  their 
gratitude. 


66  ONLY  GIRLS. 

"  No,  Bessie,  I  can't  come  now,"  the  voice  a 
little  strained  and  hoarse.  "I  hope  I  shall  see 
you  again  some  time ;  but  now  I  must  keep  mov- 
ing on." 

"  But  where  will  you  go  ?  "  a  shadow  of  anxiety 
and  trouble  in  her  face. 

"  O,  I  can't  tell  you.  You  wouldn't  know  if 
I  should  try.  Shake  hands  and  bid  me  good 
by  now." 

She  gave  him  the  small,  meagre  things.  He 
grasped  and  held  them  a  moment  in  his  big  paws, 
then  let  them  go,  and  hung  the  basket  on  her 
arm. 

"  Good  by,"  Keefe  said. 

"  Good  by,"  answered  Bessie. 

She  was  close  by  the  front  gate  now.  She 
turned  back  when  she  had  gone  a  few  steps, 
came  close  to  him,  and  put  up  her  mouth  for  a 
kiss.  And  Keefe  bent  his  lips  down  to  hers,  and 
gave  her  not  one  kiss,  but  two  or  three ;  and  so 
they  parted  without  another  word. 

He  went  on,  while  in  the  west  the  saffron 
clouds  dulled  slowly,  and  the  brown  twilight 
filled  the  air.  He  had  walked  a  long  way,  and 
he  found  that  he  was  growing  very  tired.  When 
the  stars  came,  like  conquerors,  into  the  sky,  and 


ONLY  GIRLS.  67 

filled  the  night  with  their  immortal  loveliness, 
Keefe  went  into  a  small  grove  of  pines,  which 
grew,  like  a  dark,  solid  hem,  on  the  edge  of  a 
strip  of  woodland,  and  flung  himself  down  on  the 
warm,  dry  bed  of  cones  and  needles,  luxurious  to 
his  tired  muscles  as  a  couch  of  down. 

The  air  quivered  with  strong  balsamy  fra- 
grances, the  winds  rustled  with  plaintive  mur- 
murs among  the  pines ;  and  in  a  few  moments  a 
slumber,  whose  sound  sweetness  a  king  might 
have  envied,  fell  upon  Keefe  Bartlett. 

A  little  way  off,  at  Creek  Farm,  he  would  have 
been  welcomed  that  night  as  no  king  could  be. 
Bessie  Staines  had  told  the  story  of  her  peril  and 
rescue  as  only  a  child  could  have  told  it,  while 
loving  hearts  listened  with  shudders  of  amazement 
and  horror,  and  tears  of  unutterable  thankfulness. 

The  farm  hands  were  started  off  in  various  di- 
rections to  find  him  and  bring  him  back.  But 
Keefe  Bartlett  slept  on,  with  the  plaintive  rustle 
of  the  winds  in  the  pines  overhead. 

Rox  Coventry  reached  Plum  Point  Station 
precisely  two  minutes  in  advance  of  the  train. 
There  were  not  many  passengers  on  board.  Rox 
tstretched  his  tired  muscles  at  full  length  on  one 


68  ONLY  GIRLS. 

of  the  seats ;  and,  thinking  over  his  tramp,  the 
figure,  big  and  shambling,  of  Keefe  Bartlett  rose 
up  before  him. 

"  I've  a  good  mind  to  write  the  whole  thing  to 
Edith,  and  let  her  know  the  fellow  got  her 
twenty-five  dollars,  after  all.  Curious,  how  he 
acted!  It  did  seem,  as  Edith  fancied,  a  matter 
of  life  and  death  to  him." 

Suddenly  Rox  whipped  a  small  portfolio  out  of 
his  pocket,  seized  some  paper  and  a  pencil  inside, 
and  wrote  rapidly ;  then  the  light  faded  in  the 
west,  and  with  snort  and  shriek  the  train  swept 
him  on  to  New  York. 


ONLT  GIRLS.  69 


CHAPTER    IV. 

FOLGER  came  up  the  lane  that 
afternoon  with  her  sun-hat  aslant  on  her 
head ;  in  her  cheeks  a  soft  red-brown  flush, 
like  the  streak  in  some  great  golden  pear  when 
it  is  ripe  to  the  core ;  her  eyes  just  one  wide 
sparkle  of  happiness  —  you  could  not  have  told 
their  color  now ;  they  looked  like  two  round 
wells  of  golden  light ;  her  hair,  of  a  dark,  chest- 
nut shade,  with  golden  lustres,  waved  about  her 
temples ;  and  her  dress  was  some  airy  sort  of 
fabric  that  took  to  light  flutters,  in  the  swells  of 
the  breeze,  almost  as  easily  as  the  leaves  over- 
head. 

It  was  a  summer  afternoon,  the  very  last  one 
of  that  year ;  but  there  was  no  hint  of  frost  or 
falling  away  anywhere.  There  were  overflowing 
warmth,  life,  ripeness,  in  everything,  in  the  great 
pasture  meadow  on  one  side,  with  the  cattle  in 
the  moist,  lush  grass,  and  in  the  great  apple 


>(7  ONLY  GIRLS; 

orchards  on  the  other,  filling  the  air  with  a  fine, 
pure  sweetness. 

Edith  Folger  would  have  been  puzzled  herself 
to  tell  why  she  was  so  happy  this  afternoon.  She 
had  been  off  in  the  woods  for  a  couple  of  hours, 
gathering  flowers  and  things,  soft,  green  pen- 
cillings  of  ferns,  and  swamp-pinks,  and  wild  lilies 
that  looked  as  though  they  had  gathered  and 
held  the  summer's  heat  in  their  great  flaming 
tubes,  and  bits  of  curious  mosses  and  lichens,  all 
heaped  together  in  a  bit  of  curiously  woven  rustic 
basket. 

She  loves  the  cool,  still  woods,  with  all  their 
mysterious  twitter  and  rustle  of  sounds ;  the 
ripples  of  breezes,  or  sudden  tide-like  swells  of 
winds ;  the  wide,  solemn  breadth  and  freedom ; 
the  laughters  of  little  brooks  that  seem  forever 
blundering  and  catching  their  breaths  among  the 
stones.  She  likes  to  sit  still  under  some  vast 
greenery  of  ash  or  chestnut,  and  imagine  the 
branches  are  the  arches  and.  groves  of  some 
Gothic  cathedral,  or  to  go  dabbling  among  the 
short,  crisp  grass,  the  sassafras  thickets,  and  ferny 
hollows,  hunting  for  all  kinds  of  treasures.  She 
ntfver  comes  home  without  finding  them,  too,  any 
than  those  people  who  have  eyes  to  see,  go 


ONLT  GIRLS.  71 

down  to  the  shore  when  the  tide-  is  out,  and 
come  back  without  finding  their  treasures,  shells 
and  sea-weed,  with  briny  pungent  scents  clinging 
to  them;  and  to  crown  all,  those  delicate,  won- 
derful sea-plants,  that  seem  like  the  ferns  of 
Fairy-land. 

It  is  two  years  since  Edith  Folger  stood  in  the 
front  door  and  said  good  by  to  her  cousin,  when 
he  set  out  for  his  tramp  to  Plum  Point  Station. 
Looking  at  her  to-day,  however,  you  would 
hardly  perceive  that  she  has  grown  a  week 
older.  It  is  the  same  young,  delicate  face,  with 
the  sweetness  which  goes  deeper  than  the  bloom, 
and  seems  a  kind  of  "striking  through"  of 
the  soul. 

Edith  Folger  has  come  up  here  to  Bayberry. 
Hills,  for  a  week  or  two,  just  to  feast  sense  and 
soul  with  *the  beauty  and  blessedness  of  the 
country.  Bayberry  Hills  is  a  thinly  populated, 
old-fashioned  town,  a  dozen  miles  from  Agawam. 
It  is  a  wonderful  place,  —  at  least  Edith  thinks  so, 
—  with  its  delicious  old  wood-patches,  its  slopes 
of  pastures,  and  sea-like  sweeps  of  meadows,  its 
old  road-forks,  too,  that  lead  to  great  motherly 
farm-houses,  and  past  crumbling  stone  walls,  and 


72  ONLT  GIRLS- 

into  such  enchanting  arcades  of  cool,  green 
hollows. 

Edith  felicitates  herself  every  day,  that  she 
came  here  instead  of  going  to  some  gay  watering- 
place,  which  would  have  swept  her  into  the  great 
orbit  of  parties  and  all  kinds  of  fashionable  dissi- 
pations. 

She  has  just  had  a  week  of  perfect  freedom, 
like  the  birds  and  the  striped  squirrels  she  sees 
darting  in  and  out  among  the  brambles. 

The  old  country  hotel,  too,  where  she  has  been 
stopping,  with  its  wide,  cool  piazzas  and  its  great 
airy  chambers,  belongs  to  a  past  generation.  One 
of  these  days,  perhaps,  it  will  come  out  of  its  dear 
old  shell,  and  take  on  the  fine  airs  of  a  fashion- 
able resort  for  city  tourists ;  but  it  is  not,  thus 
far,  infected  with  any  intermittent  heats  of  am- 
bition. 

It  stands  broad,  and  pleasant,  and  homely  be- 
hind the  shades  of  its  great  black-heart  cherries, 
where  the  birds  wake  up  Edith  every  morning  to 
a  day  full  of  blessedness,  and  peace,  and  beauty ; 
to  a  life  a  good  deal  like  that  old  paradise  where 
Eve  lost  her  crown. 

There  ar.e  other  people  staying  at  the  hotel, 
nice,  quiet,  sensible  people ;  some  of  them  family 


ONLT  GIRLS.  73 

acquaintances,  who  leave  Edith  to  her  own  moods, 
and  are  not  perpetually  buzzing  about  and  bother- 
ing her. 

Edith's  father  comes  up  every  night  or  two. 
He  was  afraid  she  would  be  lonely  when  he 
brought  her  out  to  this  dead-and-alive  old  town. 
Edith  has  .smiled  to  herself  a  good  many  tunes, 
as  well  she  could,  thinking  of  that  groundless 
fear. 

Then  such  feasts  of  fresh  cream  and  mountain 
berries,  and  bread  that  seems  to  hold  still  some 
old  honeyed  flavor  of  the  mellow  grain-fields,  and 
cold  chicken  and  crystal  spring-water,  that  makes 
Edith  think  of  old,  wet,  mossy  rocks,  and  cool, 
fresh  mint,  growing  all  around.  "  Papa,  it  is 
just  food  for  the  gods,"  Edith  says,  once  in  a 
while,  in  a  burst  of  enthusiasm,  and  her  little 
ripple  of  a  laugh  at  the  end. 

So,  going  up  through  the  lane  to-day,  with  the 
summer's  glow  and  ripeness  all  about  her,  Edith 
hears  suddenly  the  sound  of  the  stage-horn,  the 
hills  and  hollows  which  have  been  waiting  all  day 
seizing  hold  of  the  sounds,  and  shaking  them 
back  in  sweet  wonderful  echoes.  Edith  stands 
quite  still  in  the  broad  lane  to  hear.  A  few  rods 
beyond,  it  joins  the  highway,  and  less  than  a 


74  ONLY  GIRLS. 

quarter  of  a  mile  below,  you  can  see  the  broad 
white  piazzas  of  the  hotel. 

Edith  Folger  likes  immensely  the  sound  of  that 
old  stage-horn,  and  the  echoes  that  come  rushing 
after  it.  These  carry  her  back  to  the  stories  her 
dead  grandmother  used  to  tell  of  life  two  thirds 
of  a  century  ago,  of  the  work,  and  the  frolics, 
and  the  gossip ;  and  when  the  echoes  faint,  and 
fall,  and  fall  among  the  hills,  she  thinks  they  are 
like  tender,  mournful  ghosts  of  voices  out  of  that 
old  time.  And  so  listening  with  her  sun-hat 
aslant  on  her  head,  and"  her  willow  basket  of 
"wood  things"  in  her  hand,  the  stage  comes 
along,  and  the  two  or  three  passengers  inside  and 
the  driver  catch  a  sight  of  the  girl  standing  there, 
and  of  the  sweet  upturned  face. 

Edith  Folger  has  the  graces  and  airs  of  young- 
ladyhood  at  command,  but  she  has  put  them  all 
off  at  Bayberry  Hills,  and  is  as  natural  as  the 
birds  and  squirrels  which  she  watches,  and  that 
watch  her  in  turn  among  the  branches.  So  she 
stands  still,  and  looks  up  at  the  stage  with  a  kind 
of  childish  curiosity,  as  it  comes  rolling  and 
lumbering  along.  There  are  faces  inside  ;  that  is 
about  all  she  is  conscious  of,  for  her  eyes  meet  the 


ONLT  GIRLS.  75 

driver's,  and  somehow  they  stay  there  till  he  is 
out  of  sight. 

"  It  is  curious,"  murmured  Edith  to  herself,  as 
the  stage  rolls  on,  churning  up  a  yellow  mist  of 
dust  with  every  revolution  of  the  wheels,  "  but  I 
have  seen  that  face  before.  I'm  sure  I  have, 
somewhere." 

It  was    a    large,   square,  sun-burnt  face,  that 

"  stage-driver's ;    he  wore  a  straw  hat,   the  rim  a 

good  deal  spattered  with  mud  from  the  hollows  in 

the  road,  and  a  thin,  brown  coat,  well  enough  in 

its  way,  and  suited  to  his  work. 

Yet  Edith  Folger  had  seen  in  his  intent,  puz- 
zled gaze,  a  half  recognition  like  her  o\vn.  "  It 
is  very  funny,"  she  said  to  herself,  two  or  three 
tunes. 

Then  Edith  remembered  that  it  was  almost 
time  for  the  train  that  stopped  at  the  depot,  two' 
miles  away,  and  which  would  probably  bring  her 
father,  who  would  be  set  down  at  the  door  by  the 
hotel  carryall,  the  stage  running  down  daily  from 
the  up-hill  country,  into  which  the  railroad  had 
not  yet  been  opened. 

Edith,  coming  out  now  on  the  highway,  walked 
at  a  more  rapid  gait.  On  either  side  lay  the 


76  ONLY  GIRLS. 

wheat-fields  sunning  their  brown  reaches  in  the 
summer's  last  light.  There  were  stone  walls  with 
network  of  raspberry  bushes,  and  ragged  fringes 
of  gnarled  apple-trees. 

As  Edith  went  on,  there  came  up  to  her 
suddenly,  without  any  link  of  association  that  she 
could  find,  —  yet  she  never  thought  of  that ;  things 
go  and  come  with  all  of  iis  without  our  hunting 
up  their  causes  and  connections,  —  the  face  she 
had  seen  two  years  before,  looking  at  her  from 
over  the  hedge.  She  saw  it  all  —  the  strange, 
fierce  look  in  the  deep-set  eyes ;  the  pain  there, 
too,  which  had  haunted  her  so  afterwards,  and 
made  an  ache  in  her  own  heart.  Then  the  talk 
with  Rox  all  flashed  back  as  clear  as  though  it 
had  happened  yesterday ;  and  then  Edith  remem- 
bered the  letter  he  had  written  her  on  the  cars, 
and  the  strange  scene  which  had  occurred  on  his 
walk  to  Plum  Point  Station.  It  was  singular,  too, 
Edith  thought  now,  that  she  and  Rox  Coventry 
had  never  alluded  to  this  matter.  It  was  a  mere 
oversight  on  both  sides.  They  were  not  young 
people  in  whose  lives  very  little  was  happening. 
They  had  change,  excitement,  variety,  more  or 
less;  consequently  a  single  incident,  though  it 
might  be  quite  absorbing  at  the  moment,  soon 


ONLY  GIRLS.  77 

slipped  into  the   background   to  make   room  for 
others. 

Edith  had  been  immensely  interested  at  Rox's 
account  of  that  odd  interview  on  the  road,  but 
she  had  not  seen  him  for  some  tune  after  this 
"occurred;  and  then  there  was  so  much  else  to 
talk  about.  She  was  so  intent  on  all  this,  that 
she  did  not  hear  the  sound  of  wheels  to  the 
right  of  her.  In  a  moment  the  carryall  swept 
round  into  the  highway.  She  was  close  to  the 
hotel  now ;  there  was  a  shout,  "  Halloa,  Edith !  " 
and  turning  around  sharply,  she  saw  her  father 
and  Rox  Coventry  sitting  there  in  the  old 
vehicle,  side  by  side.  A  few  minutes  later  they 
were  in  the'  house,  and  Rox  was  relating,  in  his 
droll  way,  what  a  search  he  had  had  after  Edith, 
and  how  like  some  ancient  knight  he  had  followed 
her  all  the  way  from  Agawam  up  to  Bayberry 
Hills,  in  whose  solemn  depths  she  had  chosen  to 
bury  herself,  like  some  broken-hearted  Ophelia,  in 
a  brook,  he  would  like  to  say ;  only  Rox  declared 
that  he  had  a  tender  muscle,  that  would  twinge 
every  tune  he  came  to  making  fun  of  Ophelia. 
He  never  had  quite  forgiven  that  handsome, 
mooning  Hamlet  for  treating  her  as  he  did.  It 


78  ONLT  GIRLS. 

was  very  funny  the  way  Rox  talked ;  all  through 
flashes  and  ripples  of  Edith's  laughter. 

"I  am  so  glad  you<  have  come,  Rox!  Won't 
we  have  grand  times!  Such  wonderful  places 
as  I  have  to  show  you !  Rockeries,  and  pineries, 
and  glens,  and  deep  cavern-like  hollows,  fair  and 
odorous,  where  Titania  might  have  built  her 
throne." 

"  What  a  pretty  fancy,  uncle  Bryant !  She  has 
drunk  the  nectar  of  these  hills,  and  they  have 
made  a  poet  of  her." 

Edith's  father  laughed.  "  O,  you  children," 
he  said,  "how  long  do  you  suppose  it  will  be 
before  the  hard,  dull  prose  of  life  takes  this 
pretty  nonsense  out  of  you?" 

He  was  used  to  their  talk,  and  he  enjoyed  its 
flash,  and  sparkle,  or  sometimes  its  keen,  blade- 
like  glitter,  but  thought  the  whole  was  worth 
about  as  much  as  a  handsome  —  soap-bubble ! 

Edith  was  in  a-  kind  of  seventh  heaven  of 
ecstasy  now  that  Rox  had  come,  and  went  on 
laying  plans  for  to-morrow  in  a  rapturous  fashion. 
He  is  very  little  changed  from  the  Rox  we  left 
two  years  ago,  trudging  down  the  railroad.  Two 
months  since  he  graduated  at  college,  with  a  good 
deal  of  credit  to  himself.  Everything  has  gone 


ONLY  GIRLS.  79 

smoothly  and  gracefully  with  him  all  this  time, 
as  of  old  ;  he  takes  it  for  granted  that  it  always 
will.  Yet  he  is  silent,  and  looks  at  the  bright- 
ness in  Edith's  face  with  a  kind  of  grave  concern, 
Avhile  she  is  making  her  plans  for  the  to-morrows. 

"  Won't  it  be  just  perfect,  Rox?  "  she  ends  her 
pretty  flowery  programme  of  woods,  and  rocks, 
and  "  things." 

"  It  would  be,  Edith  j  only  I  must  be  off  with 
uncle  Bryant  to-morrow  morning." 

It  all  had  to  come  out  then.  Rox  was  going 
out  west  on  the  plains,  up  among  the  awful  si- 
lences and  eternal  snows  of  the  Rocky  Mountains. 
This  was  to  be  no  picturesque  summer-holiday's 
campaign  among  the  Adirondack^,  but  a  man's 
strong,  muscular  wrestle  with  the  great  primeval 
forests  and  forces  of  creation. 

Rox  wanted  to  mingle  in  the  mad  rush  and  joy 
of  the  buffalo-hunt,  to  bivouac  on  the  plains,  to 
steep  thirsty  soul  and  sense  in  that  intoxicating 
freedom  of  mountain,  and  wilderness,  and  prairie. 

There  was  no  use  of  book-burrowing  while  this 
sting  and  thirst  were  in  his  blood,  Rox  averred. 
What  he  must  have  now  was  the  Avild  gallop  of 
the  plains  -,  he  must  go  to  sleep  at  night  wrapped 
in  his  blanket,  with  the  roar  of  the  winds  in  tha 


SO  ONLT  GIRLS. 

old  pines,  and  the  tramp  of  the  thunder  overhead. 
He  would  come  back  after  a  while,  in  a  year  at 
most,  and  settle  down  to  civilization  and  study 
again ;  but  his  mind  was  made  up.  He  was  to 
start  in  a  few  days  with  several  of  his  class- 
mates, who  were  to  accompany  him  on  his  ex- 
pedition. 

"  There  was  a  savage  in  every  man.  It  must 
have  its  day,"  Rox  said,  epigrammatically. 

Edith  had  listened  to  all  this  with  a  shadow 
growing  into  the  brightness  of  her  face.  Rox's 
programme  shattered  all  her  pretty  flowery  one ; 
but  she  was  a  sensible  girl.  The  hills,  and  woods, 
and  all  the  wonder  and  beauty,  would  be  waiting 
for  her  still. 

"  Papa,  what  do  you  think  about  it  all  ?  "  she 
asked,  anxiously,  when  Rox  had  slipped  out  a 
moment. 

"I  don't  more  than  half  approve  of  it,"  slowly 
smoothing  his  whiskers,  which  had  gathered  an 
extra  touch  of  frost  in  these  two  years.  "  It 
strikes  me  the  whole  thing  is  a  hair-brained 
adventure;  but,  then,  every  man  must  take  his 
own  life  into  his  hands,  and  shape  it  according  to 
the  forces  that  are  in  him.  This  new,  wild  life 
will  try  Rox's  mettle.  He  isn't  old  enough  or 


ONLY  GIRLS.  81 

steady  enough,  I  fear,  and  may  fall  into  bad 
company." 

"  O,  papa,  don't !  You  make  me  shiver,"  broke 
in  Edith,  with  the  impatient  abruptness  of  a 
petted  child.  "If  anything  should  happen  to 
Rox  — " 

But  at  that  moment  the  tea  bell  rang,  and  he 
.came  back. 

After  supper  was  over,  they  went  out  on  the 
veranda,  and  sat  there  while  a  great  yellow  moon 
swung  slowly  up  over  the  hills,  and  the  earth 
grew  beautiful  and  transfigured  with  light,  and 
yet  it  was  not  the  light  of  the  sun. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  veranda  Edith's  fa- 
ther talked  politics  and  stocks  with  some  of  hi  > 
friends. 

k>  What  are  you  thinking  about,  Edith  ?  "  asked 
Rox,.  at  last. 

She  had  been  sitting  very  still,  watching  the 
stars  as  they  slowly  drifted  —  bright,  golden 
points  among  the  depths  of  blue.  She  turned 
now,  and  looked  at  her  cousin,  ^  a  little  grave 
smile  just  unbending  the  line  of  her  lips. 

"  I  was  wondering  what  would  happen  before 
you  and  I  saw  another  suniiner-moon  come  up 
among  her  stars,  and  gaze  down  on  us.  Ah, 
6 


82  ONLY  GIRLS. 

Rox,  it  is  a  terribly  long  way  to  the  Rocky 
Mountains ! " 

"  And  a  jolly  time  I  mean  to  have  of  it,  going 
back  to  primeval  things,  and  living  after  the 
pattern  of  old  Father  Adam.  I  doubt  whether 
we  have  improved  much  on  him.  Don't  you 
think  it  will  be  glorious,  Edith?"  —  getting  up, 
and  leaning  his  head  against  one  of  the  pillars, 
where  a  mass  of  clematis  hung,  the  dark-green 
embroidered  thickly  with  its  small,  pale  blossoms, 
like  stars  that  have  dropped  from  among  .their 
sisters  overhead,  and  grown  a  little  dim  before 
they  reached  the  world. 

" Yes,"  doubtfully,  —  "I  suppose  it  is  glorious. 
Only  so  many  things  might  happen,  you  know ; 
and  if  any  evil  should  come  to  you  of  any  kind, 
O,  Rox,  I  think  that  would  break  my  heart !  " 

Rox  Coventry  looked  at  the  sweet  face  up- 
turned to  him  in  the  moonlight ;  the  trouble  and 
the  tenderness  there  spoke  to  whatever  was  best 
in  him.  He  loved  his  cousin  Edith,  probably, 
better  than  anything  in  the  world. 

"My  dear  little  Queen  Mab,"  —  this  was  one 
of  the  names  he  had  given  her  when  they  were 
boy  and  girl  together,  —  "nothing  harmful  is 
going  to  happen  to  me.  Don't  you  let  any  ab- 


ONLY  GIRLS.  83 

surd  fears  get  to  croaking  in  your  sensitive  little 
soul.  Send  them  packing.  Do  you  know,"  — 
going  with  his  fine  instinct  straight  to  the  core 
of  her  words,  —  "if  I  were  about  to  go  wrong,  do 
anything  that  would  make  the  devil  have  a 
chuckle  over  me,  the  thought  of  your  dear  little 
self  would  hold  me  back  from  all  that?  " 

"  O,  Rox,  it  does  me  good  to  hear  you  say 
that!" 

"  Does  it  ?  Well,  then,  here  goes  some  more 
to  the  same  tune.  If  you  were  anything  but  my 
own  cousin,  Edith  Folger,  I  should  propose  to 
you  one  of  these  days,  and  if  you  refused  me,  and 
took  some  other  man,  why,  I  would  just  shoot 
him !  " 

"O,  Rox!" 

Perhaps  she  flushed  a  little  at  that  speech,  but 
I  am  not  quite  sure  of  it.  She  was  so  honest  and 
simple  by  her  very  birthright!  and  then  the 
youth  sitting  there  was  just  her  "  cousin  Rox," 
so  like  a  brother  to  her,  that  she  could  hardly 
conceive  of  him  in  the  relation  of  a  lover ;  but  she 
laughed  out  a  moment  later,  as  the  oddness  of  his 
speech  struck  her. 

Somebody,  coming  out  on  the  side  veranda  that 
moment,  heard  the  laugh,  that  had  in  it  some  soft, 


84  ONLY  GIRLS. 

clear  sound  of  billows  shaken  by  the  winds.  He 
turned  and  looked.  It  was  the  driver  of  the 
Bayberry  stage.  He  had  just  left  the  dining-hall, 
where  he  had  taken  his  supper  with  the  "  hands," 
and  the  sight  of  that  great,  golden  shield  of  a 
moon  drew  him  outside. 

That  intent,  puzzled  gaze,  with  which  he  had 
seen  Edith  standing  in  the  lane  that  afternoon, 
came  into  his  eyes  again.  Then  they  turned  and 
rested  on  Rox.  He  gave  a  start ;  his  jaws  closed 
themselves  tightly  together.  You  could  see  that 
his  brown  face  grew  pale  in  the  moonlight.  He 
had  recognized  Rox  Coventry. 

Once  or  twice  the  driver  half  drew  forward,  as 
though  he  was  about  to  address  Rox ;  then  seeing 
how  immersed  he  was  in  his  talk  with  Edith,  he 
chopped  back  again  ;  but  he  kept  on  watching  the 
two,  his  fingers  working  nervously  together,  his 
breath  coming  in  short,  excited  gasps,  until  the 
tears  came  into  his  eyes ;  and  overhead  the  moon 
looked  down  from  her  state  in  the  skies,  and 
pulses  of  wind  throbbed  and  sank  among  the 
gleaming  stars  of  the  clematis  ;  and  at  last,  when 
the  blur  came  into  his  eyes,  and  the  figures  grew 
dim  before  him,  the  stage-driver  turned  suddenly 
on  his  heel,  and  walked  away ;  and  Rox  and  his 


.'HE  STAGE-DRIVER.    Page  84. 


ONLT  GIRLS.  85 

cousin,  absorbed  in  their  own  affairs,  had  not  so 
much  as  known  he  was  there. 

They  went  on  with  their  talk  for  an  hour  or 
two  afterwards.  It  was  to  be  their  last  one  for 
a  long  time,  as  Rox  must  take  the  earliest  down 
train  in  the  morning.  In  view  of  this  the  -talk 
Avas  wonderfully  grave,  although  every  little 
while  the  old  gayety  would  break  through  in 
a  glittering  spray  of  jests. 

He  made  all  sorts  of  fine  promises  to  Edith 
of  what  he  was  to  do.  However,  Rox  Coventry 
Avas  a  brave,  manly  fellow.  When  he  made  a 
promise  he  felt  his  honor  was  pledged  to  it,  like 
those  old  knights  he  was  rather  fond  of  quoting. 
He  was  standing  just  on  the  threshold  of  man- 
hood ;  he  was  his  own  master ;  he  had  plenty  of 
money ;  and  the  world  was  all  before  him,  to 
make  of  it  what  he  liked.  The  horoscope  looked 
very  fair,  and  yet  —  and  yet  — 

After  a  while  Edith's  father  and  some  of  the 
house  guests  came  around  to  the  side  of  the  piazza 
where  the  cousins  sat,  and  the  talk  became 
general. 

At  last  they  all  went  into  the  house,  and  the 
moon  and  the  stars  had  the  night  to  themselves. 

Not  quite.     On  one  side  of  the  house,  under 


86  ONLT  GIRLS. 

the  great,  cavernous  shadows  of  the  black-heart 
cherries,  broken  into  occasionally  by  long,  stiletto 
shapes  of  moonlight,  the  stage-driver  was  pacing 
back  and  forth  in  a  rapid  way.  .  He  took  off  his 
hat,  and  wiped  his  forehead  with  a  hand  not  just 
steady. 

"  I  know  it  must  be  he  with  the  first  glance," 
he  murmured  to  himself.  "  I  should  have  known 
that  face  and  that  light,  jaunty  carriage  of  the 
head  if  I'd  met  them  in  Gibraltar.  Bless  him ! 
How  I  longed  to  speak  to  him,  and  tell  him  — 
But  I  never  could  tell  him  all.  Part  of  that 
must  be  a  secret  until  we  both  get  where  all 
secrets  are  laid  bare.  Yet  I  should  have  liked 
to  take  his  hand,  and  had  him  smile  on  me  once, 
as  he  did  that  day. 

"  I  know,  too,  I'd  seen  that  girl's  face  before, 
when  I  came  on  it  in  the  lane.  It  looks  as  though 
it  might  have  dropped  right  down  out  of  the 
skies.  How  softly  she  spoke  to  me  that  day, 
and  what  a  great  pity  there  was  shining  in  her 
eyes,  as  they  looked  over  the  hedge  at  me !  I 
answered  her  roughly,  too,  like  a  brute,  when  she 
only  meant  to  do  me  good. 

"How  strange  it's  happened  that  we've  all 
met  here  under  the  same  roof!  It  makes  me 


ONLY  GIRLS.  87 

•  hold  my  breath  thinking  how  different  it  all 
might  have  been,  and  there  was  only  one  mo- 
ment between. 

"  To-morrow  I  must  see  him,  get  a  word,  and 
that  shake  of  the  hands ;  and,  if  there's  time  and 
a  chance  for  it,  I'll  tell  him  what  that  twenty-five 
dollars  did  for  me." 

It  was  Keefe  Bartlett,  the  stage-driver,  pacing 
back  and  forth  in  the  shadowy  depths  of  the 
great  black-hearts,  who  had  this  talk  all  to 
himself. 

These  two  years  have  wrought  a  perceptible 
change  in  Keefe.  Some  inward  force  has  been 
working  outward  with  him.  His  limbs  have  knit 
themselves  into  firmer  shape ;  his  gait  has 
improved;  the  old  slouch  is  slowly  dropping 
from  his  shoulders ;  he  looks  at  least  five  years 
older ;  and  his  soul  has  got  more  and  more  into 
his  face,  and  softened  and  moulded  the  homeliness 
there  ;  the  gray  deep-set  eyes,  have  an  honest  look 
when  they  answer  you,  as  they  are  always  ready 
to  do  with  their  clear,  open  gaze. 

These  two  years  have  been  chiselling  out  a 
good  many  things  for  Keefe  Bartlett  besides  his 
face  and  figure.  They  have  brought  him  into 
some  very  hard  places,  it  is  true ;  but  no  hour 


88  ONLY  GIRLS. 

has  ever  closed  around  his  soul  its  prison  walls  of 
despair;  no  madness  has  fired  brain  and  heart, 
as  it  did  that  clay  when  he  sat  by  the  railroad 
in  the  hollow  and  waited,  to  this  day  nobody  but 
Keefe  knows  for  what  —  nobody  but  Keefe  Bart- 
lett  and  —  God ! 

He  has  dipped  into  a  variety  of  employments 
during  this  time;  but  no  money  that  was  not 
fairly  earned  has  soiled  that  hard  palm  of  his. 
He  has  sold  papers  on  the  cars,  been  porter, 
errand-boy,  office-clerk ;  and  one  time,  when  he 
was  in  great  straits,  he  remembered  his  old  knack 
at  entertaining  the  Agawam  hands  with  little,- 
homely,  improvised  comedies ;  and  with  the 
friendly  advice  of  one  of  the  applauding  crowd, 
Keefe  actually  went  to  the  Bowery.  Theatre,  and 
made  an  engagement  on  one  of  the  minor  parts 
in  some  old  English  comedy  that  happened  to  be 
having  a  popular  run  at  the  time.  He  succeeded 
so  well  in  his  part  that  it  is  altogether  likely  he 
would  have  made  a  further  engagement,  had  not 
an  opportunity  to  drive  an  express-wagon  turned 
up  at  this  juncture. 

Keefe  thought  he  was  wonderfully  in  luck  now, 
and  had  kept  at  this  business  a  number  of  months, 
when  it  brought  another  chance  in  his  way.  This 


ONLT  GIRLS.  89 

was,  to  take  charge  of  the  daily  stage  from  Black- 
Hawk  Mountain,  a  favorite  up-country  resort,  to 
Bayberry  Hills,  the  distance  between  the'  two 
being  a  little  less  than  forty  miles.  Keefe  had 
passed  most  of  these  two  years  in  the  city ;  but 
he  still  had  the  old  longing  for  broad,  green 
reaches  of  fields,  and  springs  by  the  wayside,  and 
cool,  sweet  scents,  and  blessed  silences  of  the 
woods,  which  had  driven  him  away  from  the  hot, 
stifling  city,  and  landed  hun  at  last  in  the 
Agawam  Cotton  Mills. 

It  was  now  about  two  months  since  Keefe  had 
entered  on  this  stage-driving.  He  enjoyed  it 
vastly.  Besides,  it  paid  better  than  anything  he 
had  ever  done  in  his  life  before.  Then  Keefe 
had  an  eye  for  scenery ;  and  the  landscapes  on 
the  whole  route,  with  their  hill  and  river  views, 
their  farm  homesteads,  and  picturesque  forks  of 
roads,  and  great  surging  billows  of  woods,  seemed 
waiting  in  glad  patience  for  the  artist  who  was 
so  long  in  coming.  They  could  afford  to  wait 
—  th6se  hills,  and  fields,  and  wo<3ds  of  God ! 

There  was  a  point  in  the  stage  route  from 
which  the  distance  to  Creek  Farm  could  hardly 
be  more  than  three  miles.  Keefe  never  passed 
this  place  without  thinking  of  the  little  girl  with 


90  ONLY  GIRLS. 

the  thin,  childish  face,  and  the  wonderful  dark 
eyes,  that  searched  him  with  their  curious,  wistful 
gaze  5  and  he  seemed  to  hear  again  the  soft,  lisp- 
ing voice  in  the  warm,  brown  twilights,  as  it  said, 
44  O,  you  are  a  good  man !  I  know  you  are  a 
good  man.  Nobody  could  make  me  believe  any- 
thing else  of  you."  He  had  heard  those  very 
words,  with  the  catch  and  lisp  in  them,  breaking 
into  the  dark  and  chill  of  many  an  hour  of  his 
life,  and  making  warmth  and  glow  there. 

Some  day,  when  the  chance  offered,  Keefe  in- 
tended to  go  over  to  the  old  farm-homestead,  and 
have  a  look  at  it  all.  He  had  a  kind  of  affection 
for  the  whole  place  —  the  wide,  ample  house,  the 
great  barn-yard,  set  in  a  green  oval  of  orchards 
and  pastures ;  and  Keefe  had  a  hope  that  he 
might  find  hanging  on  the  big  front  gate,  or  lean- 
ing out  of  some  window,  the  little  girl  with  the 
freckled  face  and  the  wonderful  eyes,  which  had 
looked  up  at  him  in  such  wild  terror  from  out  of 
the  old  well.  If  he  should  see  her,  —  the  little 
Bessie  Staines  that  had  kissed  him  good  by  that 
night,  —  he  must  go  right  up  and  speak  to  her ; 
and  Keefe  forgot  that  in  these  two  years  she 
might  have  changed,  like  himself. 

So  at  last  he  came  out  from  the  shadows  of 


ONLT  GIRLS.  01 

the  trees  into  that  still,  saintly  moonlight ;  and 
there,  because  his  heart  was  full  with  a  reverent, 
overflowing  gladness,  Keefe  instinctively,  and  for 
the  first  time  in  his  life,  took  off  his  hat  and 
thanked  God. 

The  next  morning,  when  he  inquired  for  Rox 
Coventry,  he  learned  that  he  had  left  for  the 
down  train  an  hour  before. 


92  ONLY  GIRLS. 


CHAPTER    V. 

-OW,  Brownie,  isn't  that  a  supper  for  a 
king,  instead  of  a  little  bit  of  shiny 
colt  like  you?" 

It  was  a  pretty  sight,  —  the  world  is  full  of 
just  such  little  homely  improvised  side  scenes, 
and  the  artist  never  gets  there  at  just  the  right 
moment,  —  that  young  girl  standing  in  the  deep, 
grassy  side-yard,  and  a  colt  close  to  her ;  a  small, 
graceful  five-months,  with  the  glossiest  chestnut 
coat,  a  slender,  tapering  neck,  and  a  nose  tipped 
with  white,  as  though  a  great  fleck  of  foam  was 
caught  and  hung  there. 

The  girl's  hands  were  full  of  small  summer 
apples.  You  could  just  see,  straggling  over  the 
barn-yard  bars,  the  tip  edges  of  the  tree  where  she 
had  picked  the  fruit,  sweet,  mellow,  with  a  sea- 
green  tint,  and  an  apple-y  scent  that  would  just 
have  made  your  mouth  water. 

The  girl  was  right.     It  was  a  lucky  colt,  that 


ONLY  GIRLS.  93 

was  banqueted  in  that  fashion,  and  he  kept  run- 
ning his  cold,  white-fringed  nose  into  her  hands 
in  just  that  frank,  greedy  way,  which  is  natural 
alike  to  babies  and  quadrupeds. 

The  girl  had  on  a  pink  gingham  dress,  which 
became  her  rather  sallow  skin.  It  would  prob- 
ably clear  up  into  a  ruddy  olive  by  the  tune  she 
got  deep  among  her  teens ;  she  looked  as  though 
she  might  be  skirting  their  edges  now.  She  was 
bareheaded,  and  the  wind  was  taking  small  liber- 
ties with  her  hair,  which  was  a  bright?  brown, 
mopped  carelessly  about  her  head. 

The  sunset  light  was  all  around  the  girl  —  all 
around  Creek  Farm,  indeed,  at  this  time.  It  had 
a  way  of  lying  there  lovingly  before  it  went  down 
behind  the  broad,  scraggy  shoulder  of  the  western 
hills.  The  last  warmth  and  light  fell  now  upon 
meadow  and  orchard,  and  broad  wheat-fields  and 
up-hill  pasture-lands,  which  all  went  to  make  up 
the  great  farmstead,  and  on  one  side,  winding  in 
and  out  among  the  hollows  and  fern-pastures  like 
a  big  coiled  chain,  flashed  the  steely-blue  waters 
of  the  creek  which  had  given  its  own  name  to  the 
whole.  | 

There  was  no  artist  that  time  to  catch  Brownie 
and  his  young  mistress,  and  the  warm,  fading 


94  ONLY  GIRLS. 

light,  and  turn  a  square  foot  of  canvas  into 
poetry;  but  there  was  a  pair  of  eyes  who  saw 
this  picture,  and  who  enjoyed  it  all  in  a  way 
which  no  artist  could  possibly  have  done.  It  was 
only  the  driver  of  the  stage  from  Bayberry  Hills 
to  Black-Hawk  Mountain.  He  had  walked  over 
from  the  hotel  and  lost  his  supper  for  this  little 
scene,  and  he  would  not  have  grudged  the  price 
of  a  week's  suppers  for  it. 

There  he  stands,  leaning  on  the  stone  wall,  in 
the  shadow  of  some  big  clumps  of  barberry  bushes. 
His  large  features  are  mobile  with  expression 
now ;  the  soul  has  got  up  into  and  quickened 
the  tanned  face ;  the  deep-set  eyes  brighten  and 
flash.  How  he  watches  the  girl  as  she  pats  the 
face  and  smooths  the  shining  coat,  and  slips  the 
apples  deftly  into  the  colt's  mouth,  talking  to  the 
creature,  too,  in  little  sentences  that  slide  and 
ripple  softly  along  her  young  voice ;  the  voice  the 
young  man  out  there  by  the  barberry  bushes 
would  have  known  anywhere,  because  of  some 
words  it  once  said  to  him,  .and  that  he  has  been 
hearing  in  his  soul  ever  since — "  O,  I  know  you 
are  a  good  man !  Nobody  in  the  whole  world 
could  make  me  think  you  wasn't  a  good  man." 

Keefe  Bartlett  has   come  over  to  Creek  Farm 


ONLT  GIRLS.  95 

to-night,  because  a  longing  drew  him  there.  He 
had  no  idea  of  making  himself  known  to  anybody. 
The  most  he  had  hoped  for  was,  that  he  might  be 
lucky  enough  to  get  a  chance  look  at  the  little 
girl  he  had  pulled  out  of  the  well.  If  she  had 
come  plump  in  his  way,  he  might  have  shaken 
hands  with  her. 

Keefe  is  greatly  amazed  at  the  change  in  Bessie 
Staines.  These  two  years  seem  so  very  short  to 
him  as  he  stands  there  and  remembers  that  day 
—  the  day  of  all  his  life !  She  has  shot  up  half 
a  head,  and  the  peaked  face  is  plumper  and 
prettier.  It  will  be  growing  that  year  by  year, 
as  it  matures ;  but  Keefe  does  not  know  that ; 
indeed,  he  knows  very  little  about  girls  any 
way. 

He  gazes  and  gazes,  and  his  face  shines  with 
a  real  gladness.  "  I'm  glad  I  came  over  to  see. 
It's  all  been  going  right  with  her,  I  know,"  he 
murmured  to  himself. 

Brownie  has  licked  up  the  last  apple  from 
Bessie's  palm. 

"  There  isn't  another  one,  you  see,"  holding 
up  her  hands  before  the  large,  bright  eyes,  that 
quiver  and  flash,  showing  the  high-mettled  crea- 
ture Brownie  is,  and  how,  out  in  the  pasture,  she 


96  ONLT  GIRLS. 

can  dart,  and  sweep,  and  scamper,  fleet  as  the 
winds  themselves. 

At  that  moment  somebody  came  up  through 
the  lane  into  the  road,  where  Kcefe  was  standing 
by  the  •  barberry  bushes.  He  was  a  rather  tall 
man,  with  a  broad,  generous  kind  of  build,  sur- 
mounted by  a  large  head,  whose  shape  would 
have  struck  one  used  to  observing  those  things. 
The  thick  hair  was  getting  very  gray.  Under  it 
was  a  sun-browned,  shrewd,  kindly  face,  homely, 
perhaps,  but  not  common. 

You  knew,  as  soon  as  it  turned  itself  on  you, 
that  thought  and  character  were  behind.  The 
man  was  evidently  a  farmer ;  he  was  in  his  shirt- 
sleeves, and  had  been  among  his  men  mowing 
a  three-acre  lot  that  day.  He  was  tired  now,  for 
he  was  not  so  young  as  he  had  been  twenty  years 
ago.  The  feet  made  no  sound  as  they  moved 
through  the  long  grass  of  the  lane.  It  is  doubt- 
ful, however,  whether  Keefe  Bartlett  would  have 
heard  a  very  solid  tramp  at  that  moment. 

The  farmer's  gray  eyes  opened  wide  with  a 
puzzled  curiosity,  as  he  caught  a  full  view  of  the 
stranger  in  the  shadow  of  the  big  barberry  clump. 
He  saw,  too,  the  picture  of  Bessie  and  Brownie 
in  the  side-yard;  he  had  seen  it  a  good  many 


ONLT  GIRLS.  !»7 

times  before,  and  always  thought  it  a  pretty  one, 
but  hardly  striking  enough  to  draw  strangers  up 
on  one  side  of  the  highway,  and  hold  them  there 
a.s  if  they  were  magnetized. 

The  light  was  full  on  Keefe's  face ;  the  farmer 
saw  the  intense,  breathless  look  there,  the  feel- 
ings at  work  in  all  the  features.  "  What  did  it 
mean  ?  '' 

"  Good  evening,  sir."  It  was  a  pleasant,  cor- 
dial voice ;  yet  Keefe  started  as  though  a  pistol 
had  gone  off  at  his  ear.  Then  he  turned  and 
saw  the  farmer  in  Ins  shirt-sleeves,  and  the 
gray -ing  hair,  and  the  kindly,  thoughtful  face 
under  it. 

"  O,  very,  sir,"  Keefe  stammered,  reddening 
a  good  deal,  as  though  he  had  not  quite  a  right 
to  be  there. 

The  farmer  noticed  the  blush. 

"  She's  a  handsome  little  creature,"  he  said. 
"  Won't  you  walk  in  and  take  a  look  at  her  ?  " 

At  that  moment  Brownie  turned  her  head  ;  she 
had  heard  the  voices  at  the  gate.  A  sudden  fire 
quivered  in  her  soft  eyes.  With  a  curvet  and  a 
bound,  and  a  stretching  of  the  graceful  slope  of 
her  shoulders,  she  was  off  like  a  scared  fawn  or 
a  flash  of  lightning.  She  dashed  through  the 
7 


98  ONLT  GIJfLS. 

open  gate  of  the  orchard.  She  cleared  that  in 
a  moment,  and  the  next  she  was  tossing  and  dart- 
ing about  in  the  open  pastures,  glad  and  free  as 
some  wild  young  creature  of  plain  and  forest. 
.  Both  the  men  laughed.  Brownie's  mistress 
joined  in  the  fun,  clapping  her  hands. 

"Ah,  Bessie,  she  was  too  quick  for  you  that 
time,"  the  farmer  called  over  the  wall. 

"It  was  your  talk  scared  her,  uncle  Richard." 

When  she  spoke  that  name,  the  young  driver 
turned  suddenly,  and  stared  in  a  curious  way  at 
the  man  in  his  shirt-sleeves. 

At  that  moment  Bessie  caught  sight  of  the 
stranger  by  her  uncle,  and  with  a  child's  curiosity 
she  came  towards  the  wall  with  light,  springy 

bounds. 

• 

As  she  drew  close  to  Keefe,  she  stared  at  him, 
perceiving  he  was  a  stranger.  He  smiled,  and" 
held  out  his  hand  then,  not  really  knowing  what 
he  was  doing. 

At  that  a  puzzled  look  came  into  her  eyes ;  she 
gave  him  her  hand,  her  gaze  fastened  on  his  face. 
"Why,  it  seems  as  though  I  know  you!"  she 
said,  with  a  little  indrawn  breath,  half  to  herself ; 
then  she  turned,  in  her  swift,  straightforward 
fashion,  —  "who  is  it,  uncle  Richard?" 


ONLY  GIRLS.  99 

"  That's  more  than  I'm  able  to  answer,  Bessie," 
he  said,  struck  with  something  —  he  could  not  tell 
what  —  in  the  young  man's  manner. 

Then  the  girl's  gaze  went  back  to  Keefe's 
face. 

"  I  have  seen  you  before ;  I'm  sure  I  have," 
she  said,  very  positively;  "but  I  can't  tell 
where." 

"  Perhaps  I  can  help  you,"  said  Keefe.  All 
this  time  the  words  had  been  getting  ready  in 
his  throat.  "  Did  you  ever  fall  over  a  well-curb, 
and  hang  there  ?  and  did  a  big  fellow,  who  hap- 
pened to  be  going  by,  hear  your  screams,  and 
come  and  pull  you  out?" 

"  O !  "  What  a  break  of  light  there  was  in  the 
small  face !  She  clasp*ed  his  hand  with  both  of 
hers.  . "  I  knew  you  would  come ;  I  always  said 
you  would.  Uncle  Richard !  Uncle  Richard !  " 

She  turned  to  the  man ;  but  she  could  get  no 
farther  at  that  moment.  The  surprise,  the  joy, 
and  the  memory  of  that  old  terror,  all  together, 
overcame  her,  and  instead  of  the  words  there 
was  a  sudden  stricture  at  her  throat,  and  the 
tears  swelled  in  her  eyes. 

Uncle    Richard    saw   it    all    in    a    flash.      He 


100  ONLY  GIRLS. 

grasped  Keefe's  hand,  and  wrung  it  until  it 
ached. 

"My  dear  fellow,  how  could  you  be  so  cruel 
as  to  keep  yourself  away  all  this  time,  so  that  we 
couldn't  thank  you  ?  " 

Keefe  was  really  quite  amazed  at  this  reception. 

"I  didn't  think  I'd  done  anything  worth  the 
thanks,"  he  stumbled  out. 

"What!  not  when  you  saved  this  little  girl's 
life?  "  exclaimed  the  elder  man.  "  But  we'll  talk 
all  that  over.  Come  right  in  now." 

And  Keefe  went  in :  there  was  nothing  else  for 
him  to  do.  Bessie  Staines  went  with  him,  cling- 
ing to  his  hands,  and  with  unutterable  things  in 
her  eyes. 

It  was  a  wide,  breezy,  old-fashioned  "  keeping- 
room"  into  which  they  iwjpred  the  young  stage- 
driver.  It  was  one  of  those  rooms  which  seem  to 
take  you  right  id^its/'heart,  and  wrap  you  all 
around  in  its  blesse^ home-atmosphere.  There 
was  nothing  especial  to  write  about.  There  was 
an  ample,  chintz-covered  lounge  on  one  side,  with 
a  large  engraving  of  Washington  gazing  serenely 
at  another  of  Lincoln  on  the  mantel  opposite. 
There  were  great,  cavernous  rocking-chairs,  with 
home-made  cushions,  and  at  the  windows  were 


ONLY  GIRLS.  101 

bushes  of  sweetbrier,  and  clumps  of  quinces,  and 
beaut  if  id  drapings  of  honeysuckles  and  creeping 
vines. 

Keefe  Bartlett  had  never  been  in  a  room  lik* 
this   before.     That   made   it   seem   all    the   iiioro 
wonderful  to  him. 

Bessie  Staines  darted  out  of  the  room  while  he."* 
uncle  was  seating  their  guest. 

"  Mother,  he's  come  !  he's  come  !  "  she  shouted, 
bolting  into  the  kitchen,  where  a  small,  delicate 
woman  was  picking  over  some  raspberries. 

u  What  in  the  world  do  you  mean,  Bessie  ?  " 
holding  her  hands  still  over  the  large  white  bowl 
in  her  lap. 

"  Why,  you  know.  The  man  that  pulled  me 
out  of  the  well,  and  kept  me  from  drowning !  I 
told  you  he  would  come  —  you  know  I  did, 
mamma ;  and  so  he  has ;  and  there  he  is  right 
in  the  other  room!"  Actually  dancing  up  and 
down  in  her  delight. 

There  was  a  little  cry  from  the  mother.  She 
rose  right  up,  without  a  single  word ;  she  did 
not  even  wait  to  drop  off  her  kitchen  apron,  or 
wipe  her  ringers,  which  were  a  little  stained  with 
working  amongst  the  fruit.  She  went  right  into 


102  ONLT  GIRLS. 

the  room,  and  up  to  Keefe.  He  looked  at  her, 
and  she  locked  at  him,  and  she  only  thought  that 
he  had  saved  the  life  of  her  child.  She  had 
thought  of  this  every  day  since  that  night. 

She  was  •  a  small,  sallow  woman,  worn  with  ill 
health  and  a  good  many  sorrows.  But  one  thing 
could  be  said  of  her;  Mrs.  Staines  had  a  motherly 
face ;  and  when  you  have  said  "that  of  a  woman, 
it  makes  very  little  difference  whether  she  is 
handsome  or  homely ;  she  will  be  sure  to  have  a 
beauty  of  her  own. 

She  stood  there  a  moment  and  looked  at  Keefe, 
and  he  thought  of  his  own  dead  mother,  and  it 
almost  seemed  that  she  had  risen  up  from  her 
grave,  and  was  looking  at  him  with  those  sad, 
tender  eyes  of  hers. 

"  Young  man,"  she  said,  u  I'm  very  glad  to 
see  you.  I've  wanted  to  thank  you  for  my  little 

girl." 

She  could  not  get  any  farther  than  that,  but 
in  the  fulness  of  her  motherly  heart  and  gratitude, 
she  just  put  her  arms  around  Keefe's  neck  and 
kissed  him. 

And  this  was  the  stage-driver's  welcome  to 
Creek  Farm.  Yet  never  was  mortal  more  amazed 
to  find  himself  a  hero  than  Keefe  Bartlett.  He 


ONLY  GIRLS.  103 

always  insisted  that  he  had  done  nothing  worthy 
the  least  praise  in  rescuing  Bessie  Staines  from 
her  peril. 

But  the  gratitude  was  wonderfully  pleasant,  for 
all  that.  What  a  supper  that  was,  too,  which 
followed,  with  its  delicious  brown  bread,  its  cream 
and  berries,  and  all  its  homely  fresh  farm  cheer ! 
Bessie  sat  next  to  Keefe,  and  buzzed  away  in 
her  bright,  childish  fashion.  He  learned,  too, 
what  a  search  they  had  made  for  him  that  nightf, 
while  he  was  sleeping  in  the  little  grove  of  pines, 
not  dreaming  there  was  in  all  God's  world  any- 
body who  cared  whether  he  were  dead  or  alive. 

This  uncle  of  Bessie's,  too,  proved  not  the  least 
wonderful  of  all  the  things  which  Keefe  found 
at  Creek  Farm.  He  was  a  man  well  on  the  slope 
of  his  sixties ;  but  he  had  one  of  those  large,  ten- 
der natures,  which  only  get  mellower  with  years. 

"Nature  had  done  her  part  well  at  the  be- 
ginning," men  of  culture  said,  listening  to  the 
talk  of  Richard  Staines,  full  of  mother-wit  and 
shrewdness,  with  a  quaint  humor  shining  over  all 
the  large,  ripe  judgment  of  the  man.  "  What  a 
pity  it  was  such  a  man  had  not  early  opportu- 
nities! He  would  have  been  sure  to  make  his 

. 
mark  somewhere." 


104  ONLY  GIRLS. 

At  least  he  had  made  it  at  Creek  Farm,  having 
earned  the  whole  large,  breezy,  ample  homestead 
with  the  toil  of  his  own  sunburned  hands ;  keep- 
ing his  faculties  alert,  too,  with  reading  and  ob- 
servation of  one  kind  and  another. 

Richard  Staines  had  been  a  widower  many 
years,  and  buried  his  two  children  long  ago  by 
the  side  of  their  mother.  Bessie's  father  had  been 
the  man's  only  brother.  There  was  a  sad  story 
there ;  but  the  grave  had  covered  all  that  over 
now  in  her  cool,  brooding  silences. 

Keefe  was  greatly  drawn  towards  the  elder 
man ;  but  that  was  not  remarkable.  Richard 
Staines  had  that  personal  magnetism  which  in- 
heres hi -strong,  sympathetic  natures.  Keefe  all 
the  time  was  thinking  how  different  life  would 
have  been  to  him  if  his  could  only  have  taken 
root  in  a  home  like  this.  Then  there  might  have 
been  some  blossom  and  fruitage  worth  having; 
but  now  —  Keefe  thought  that  he  had  throttled 
that  sigh  in  time,  but  Richard  Staines  heard  it. 

"What  wonderful  things  do  happen  in  this 
world ! "  rippled  away  Bessie's  tongue,  after  they 
had  learned  about  the  stage-driving,  and  what 
had  brought  Keefe  to  Creek  Farm. 


ONLY  GIRLS.  105 

"  Do  you  think,  uncle  Richard,  the  stage- 
driving  was  a  providence,  too?" 

"  I  hope  we  shall  find  everything  a  providence, 
my  dear,  in  the  long  run." 

"  But  so  many  things  don't  seem  so  now,  uncle 
Richard." 

"  No ;  you  remember  that  day,  last  winter, 
when  the  thermometer  dropped  below  zero?  It 
was  the  coldest,  darkest,  shortest  day  of  the 
year ;  and  yet  it  was  the  very  one  I  told  you 
on  which  the  sun  turned  his  face  towards  the 
earth,  towards  this  very  day  that  lay  waiting  for 
her,  so  far  off  among  green  leaves  and  grasses,  and 
all  the  summer  life  and  beauty.  It  was  a  long 
road  to  it,  through  sleet,  and  storm,  and  dark, 
hut  it  was  a  sure  one.  God's  roads  always  are. 
And  so  I  think  his  dark  providences  are  rolling 
through  their  wide  orbits  into  the  light  and  the 
summer  at  last." 

When  uncle  Richard  said  this,  a  great,  indescri- 
bable sweetness  came  into  his  face. 

The  family  at  Creek  Farm  had  their  scraps  and 
slices  of  theology  at  all  sorts  of  odd  times  and 
ways.  I  think  they  were  better  than  a  good 
many  sermons. 

1 1  put  a  new  thought  in  Keefe's  head.     What 


106  ONLT  GIRLS. 

if  he  should  find,  some  day,  the  meaning  of  all 
that  long,  dark  winter  of  his  childhood,  and  read 
its  meaning  plain  in  God's  light  and  summer '? 

Richard  Staines  was  a  wonderfully  shrewd 
reader  of  men.  "  You've  had  a  hard  time  of  it  in 
the  world,  poor  fellow !  I  see,"  his  secret  thoughts 
went.  "  There's  some  pluck  in  you,  too,  or  you 
wouldn't  have  struggled  up  through  it.  A  plank 
of  good,  solid  timber  went  into  your  foundations 
evidently.  A  good  face,  too,  —  honest  and  saga- 
cious. You'll  make  your  way." 

When  the  supper  was  over,  they  went  back 
into  the  old  keeping-room,  and  the  wind  came  up, 
and  made  a  soft  buzz  at  the  windows. 

Bessie  came  and  sat  down  by  his  side ;  indeed, 
she  seemed  to  regard  Keefe  as  in  some  sense  her 
especial  property. 

They  all  talked,  the  girl's  voice  slipping  in  and 
out  among  the  others  with  a  pretty,  childish  ea- 
gerness and  contrast.  There-  is  no  use  of  telling 
what  they  said;  only  Keefe  began  to  feel  that 
he  had  known  these  people  —  this  simple,  large- 
scaled  farmer  and  this  small,  fragile  woman  with 
her  motherly  face  —  all  the  days  of  his  life. 

The  stage-driver  told  them  about  his  own  life, 
too ;  told,  in  little  snatches  and  glimpses,  more 


ONLT  GIRLS.  107 

than  he  intended  or  suspected;  for  they  could 
piece  the  bits  together,  and  make  the  outlines 
wonderfully  like  the  true  pattern. 

AVhen  they  learned  that  Keefe  had  been  with- 
out a  relative  in  the  world  since  his  mother  died, 
away  off  in  the  dawn  of  his  memory,  they  all 
looked  at  him  with  a  great  pity  in  their  eyes, 
and  Mrs.  Staines's  motherly  heart  just  ached  for 
him,  thinking  of  her  own  boys,  over  whose  little 
grass  pillows  the  springs  had  gone  softly,  a  whole 
score  of  them,  with  tender  shadows,  and  soft 
winds,  and  singing  birds,  as  though  there  were  no 
such  things  as  graves  in  all  the  world. 

And  so  they  talked  on ;  and  at  last  the  moon 
came  up,  and  peeped  in  curiously  through  the 
quivering  leaves.  It  was  time  for  Keefe  to  be 
going. 

They  quite  insisted  on  his  remaining  all  night, 
but  it  could  not  be.  The  stage  for  Black-Hawk 
Mountain  started  early  in  the  morning. 

"  Is  there  anything  in  the  world  we  can  do 
for  you,  my  young  friend?  "  asked  uncle  Richard, 
just  as  they  were  about  shaking  hands  with  their, 
guest.  "  One  good  turn,  you  know,  deserves 
another ;  and  what  a  great  '  good  turn  '  that  was 
you  did  for  us  once !  "  —  catching  hold  of  Bessie's 


108  ONLT  GIRLS. 

shoulders,  and  drawing  her  suddenly  to  his  hearts 
that  great,  warm  heart,  which  probably  loved  the 
child  a  little  better  than  anything  else  in  the 
world. 

"  Thank  you,  sir,  I  have  been  more  than  paid," 
Keefe  answered,  fervently. 

"Well,  Bessie,  as  he  won't  help  us,  we  will 
leave  it  for  you  to  decide.  What  shall  we  do  for 
your  friend  ?  ' ' 

Bessie,  standing  between  her  uncle  and  her 
mother,  looked  up  at  Keefe  a  moment  with  her 
bright,  puzzled  eyes  ;  then  a  swift  idea  danced  in 
them. 

"I  think,"  she  said,  "we'd  better  have  him 
come  and  live  here  a  while.  There  are  so  many 
things  to  show  him,  you  know ;  and  there's 
Brownie ! " 

The  child's  sudden  arrow  had  gone  straight  to 
the  mark  this  time.  In  all  his  pinched,  starved, 
lonely  life,  this  poor  Keefe  Bartlett  had  never  had 
a  home;  and  now,  to  dwell  under  this  blessed 
roof,  to  have  these  people  about  him,  to  hear 
them  speak,  to  look  in  their  faces,  why,  it 
seemed  to  him  like  entering  the  very  gate  of 
heaven. 

Of  course  Keefe  did   not  expect  that  such  a 


ONLY  GIRLS.  109 

miracle  of  good  could  happen  to  him  ;  but  his  face 
flushed;  there  was  a  sudden  hungry  gleam  in  his 
eyes.  •  Uncle  Richard  saw  it ;  so  did  the  mother. 

There  were  plenty  of  large,  breezy,  comfortable 
chambers  in  the  old  farm-house.  Keefe  should 
have  one  of  the  best. 

They  both  exclaimed  at  once  that  he  should 
come. 

It  was  all  settled  in  a  little  while.  The  sta- 
ging would  only  last  during  the  summer  travel ; 
but  this  would  probably  continue  for  a  couple 
of  months,  and  during  that  time  they  would  take 
no  denial.  Keefe  Bartlett  was  to  live  at  Creek 
Farm. 

The  stage-driver  went  back  to  Bayberry  Hills 
in  the  fading  moonlight,  and  it  seemed  that  the 
whole  world  was  changed  to  him ;  that  it  had 
grown  suddenly,  with  its  billowy  fields,  and  its 
dark,  rustling  woods,  and  its  hills,  that  seemed 
to  stand  and  wait  forever  listening  for  some  great 
secret,  —  it  seemed  as  though  all  these  had  grown 
suddenly  into  a  great,  beautiful,  happy  home  for 
Keefe  Bartlett. 

Two   or  three   days    after   all    this  happened, 
Edith    Folger   went   off  into    the   great  huckle- 
' 


110  ONLT  GIRLS. 

berry  pasture,  about  two  miles  from  the  hotel. 
On  the  crown  there  was  a  broad,  generous  swell 
of  land,  with  an  outlook  of  twenty  miles ;  great 
seas  of  meadows,  and  billowy  forests,  and  dots 
of  farm-houses,  and  white  little  sprinklings  of 
villages.  Edith  was  fascinated  with  it  all,  and 
walked  about  from  one  point  .to  another,  find- 
ing a  fresh  delight  in  every  view. 

At  last,  however,  it  grew  warm,  and  the  breeze 
went  down.  She  was  about  to  start  for  home ; 
but  she  felt  tired,  and  there  was  a  tempting  little 
dimple,  or  hollow,  in  one  corner  of  the  pasture. 
It  was  a  cool,  woodsy  place,  with  a  great  group 
of  locusts  and  maples.  Edith  went  in  here,  and 
sat  down  on  the  grass.  How  shady  and  delicious 
it  was,  with  the  soft  little  gossip  of  winds  among 
the  leaves ! 

The  girl  did  not  know  how  tired  she  was. 
She  only  thought  she  wanted  to  look  up  at  the 
bits  of  sky  through  the  meshes  of  boughs,  when 
she  laid  her  head  down  among  the  cool,  sweet 
smells  and  the  soft  shadows ;  but  in  a  few  mo- 
ments the  little  gossip  of  winds  all  ran  into  a  low, 
drowsy  tune,  and  Edith  had  fallen  fast  asleep 
under  the  trees. 

She  slept  for  more  than  an  hour.     She  woke  up 


ONLT  GIRLS.  Ill 

at  last  with  a  start.  It  had  grown  dark,  and  it 
took  her  some  time  to  gather  up  her  wits,  and 
remember  where  she  was.  She  sprang  up,  and 
came  out  on  the  edge  of  the  group  of  trees,  and 
saw  that,  while  she  had  been  fast  asleep,  the 
clouds  had  been  at  work.  They  seemed  to  hang 
in  great  flapping  banners  all  around  the  sky. 
There  were  distant,  threatening  growls  of  thun- 
der. The  storm  was  coming. 

Edith  Folger  was  a  brave  girl,  else  she  would 
not  have  gone  foraging  off  into  the  woods,  as  she 
had  been  doing  all  these  weeks ;  but  the  threat- 
ening sky  rather  appalled  her.  She  reflected  that 
she  was  more  than  two  miles  from  home,  and  the 
storm  was  hurrying  up.  She  started  for  the  road, 
and  in  her  haste  took  the  wrong  way. 

Once  in  the  highway,  the  girl  and  the  clouds 
had  a  race ;  but  it  was  soon  evident  who  would 
be  victor.  They  came  sailing  up,  those  great, 
black,  bellying  masses,  and  there  were  gusts 
of  wind,  and  the  growls  grew  longer  and  louder. 

On  a  sudden  Edith  was  struck  with  the  un- 
familiar face  of  tilings  about  her.  She  saw  she 
had  mistaken  her  way,  and  her  heart  sank.  She 
looked  about  her.  There  was  not  a  house  in 
sight,  only  a  long,  hilly  road,  stretching  its  neck 


112  ONLY  GIRLS. 

of  yellow  sand  between    the  stone  walls  which 
enclosed  the  pastures. 

"  O,  what  shall  I  do  ?  "  cried  Edith ;  and  if  she 
had  said  one  word  more  she  would  have  sobbed 
right  out. 

Then  she  caught  the  sound  of  rattling  wagon- 
wheels,  and  they  were  very  musical  to  her.  In 
a  few  moments  the  team  came  in  sight,  driven  by 
a  man  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  some  bags  of  flour 
behind  him.  He  was  evidently  returning  from 
the  mill  below.  Edith  stood  still,  and  waited 
for  him. 

"  If  he  has  a  good  face,"  she  said  to  herself, 
"  I  shall  speak  to  him." 

The  mare  came  on  at  a  swift  trot.  She  was 
evidently  in  a  hurry  to  get  home.  The  driver 
suddenly  caught  sight  of  the  figure  standing  on 
one  side  of  the  road.  A  look  of  surprise  came, 
into  his  face.  He  drew  up  sharply,  and  before 
Edith  could  speak,  he  had  accosted  her. 

"  Can  I  do  anything  for  you,  young  lady  ?  " 

That  face,  that  voice,  could  be  trusted  any- 
where. Edith  felt  secure  in  a  moment. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said.  "  I  have  lost  my 
way,  and  I  must  be  two  or  three  miles  from 
home,  and  the  storm  is  close  on  us." 


ONLY  GIRLS.  113 

The  driver  was  out  of  the  wagon,  spry  as 
though  he  were  a  young  man. 

"  Jump  right  in  here,"  he  said.  "  We  can't 
stop  for  ceremony,  or  the .  storm  will  get  the 
better  of  us.  Whoa,  old  Gray!  My  home  is 
three  quarters  of  a  mile  down  the  road,  and 
the  mother  and  Bessie  will  be  delighted  to  see 
you." 

While  he  was  saying  this,  he  had  bundled 
Edith  into  the  mill  wagon,  sprung  in  beside  her, 
and  seized  the  reins.  Old  Gray  tossed  her  im- 
patient head,  and  they  were  skimming  over  the 
road.  It  was  all  the  work  of  a  moment. 

"Now,  my  child,  how  did  you  get  here?" 
asked  uncle  Richard  Staines,  turning  upon  Edith 
with  the  smile  into  which  that  heart  and  soul  of 
his  had  been  managing  to  get  all  these  years  in 
a  way  that  was*  truly  wonderful. 

She  told  him  about  her  stopping  at  Bayberry 
Hills,  and  how  she  had  wandered  into  the  huckle- 
berry pasture,  and  fallen  asleep  there,  and,  wak- 
ing up  bewildered  by  the  gathering  storm,  had 
lost  her  way.  She  felt  as  secure  by  the  side  of 
this  stranger  as  though  her  own  father  sat  there  ; 
besides,  she  had  a  real  curiosity  to  see  "  the 
mother  and  Bessie." 

8 


114  ONLY  GIRLS. 

They  exchanged  names.  Edith  had  heard  at 
the  hotel  of  Creek  Farm  and  its  owner ;  and  he, 
of  course,  knew  of  the  proprietor  of  the  Agawam 
Cotton  Mills. 

This  time  it  was  the  mare  and  the  shower,  and 
old  Gray  won. 

But  just  as  they  got  into  the  side-porch  the 
first  drops  fell.  Bessie  let  them  in,  her  eyes  wide 
with  wonder  at  sight  of  the  young  lady  uncle 
Richard  had  brought  home  with  him.  Where 
had  he  picked  her  up?  She  looked  lovely 
enough  to  have  dropped  right  out  of  the  sky. 

Then  the  mother  came.  A  few  words  ex- 
plained the  whole,  and  with  that  motherly  wel- 
come Edith  felt  as  much  at  home  as  Keefe  Bart- 
lett  had  done  under  the  same  roof  only  a  few 
nights  ago. 

What  a  storm  that  was,  with  its  sea  of  smit- 
ing rain,  and  its  mad  hurricanes  of  winds,  that 
tossed,  and  wrenched,  and  tore  through  the  air 
and  over  the  earth  hour  after  hour ! 

Yet  Edith,  safely  housed  in  the  old  keeping- 
room  at  Creek  Farm,  enjoyed  it  immensely.  She 
liked  odd,  out-of-the  way  adventures,  like  these. 
I  think  all  fresh  souls,  old  or  young,  do. 

Uncle   Richard   Staines  and  she  took  a  great 


ONLY  GIRLS.  115 

liking  to  each  other  at  once ;  and  Edith,  without 
any  mother  of  her  own,  was  greatly  drawn 
towards  the  mother-look  in  Mrs.  Staines's  face. 

Bessie  was  very  shy  at  first,  and  watched  the 
"beautiful  young  lady"  with  wide,  admiring 
eyes ;  but  her  uncle  brought  her  out  in  a  little 
while,  and  she  soon  buzzed  away  in  her  quaint 
fashion,  which  vastly  amused  Edith. 

At  last  it  began  to  grow  dark.  Of  course, 
while  the  storm  continued,  Edith's  return  home 
was  not  to  be  so  much  as  thought  of. 

"  O,  what  if  you  should  have  to  stay  all 
night ! "  cried  Bessie,  her  eyes  dancing  with 
ecstasy  at  the  thought. 

Just  then  Mrs.  Staines  came  in,  and  announced 
supper ;  and  the  mill-owner's  daughter  enjoyed 
that  almost,  but  not  quite,  as  much  as  poor  Keefe 
Bartlett  had  done. 

It  could  not  be  just  the  same  to  her,  you  know. 


116  ONLY  GIRLS. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

FOLGER  did  not  go  home  that 
night.  The  wind  and  the  rain  had  all 
out  doors  to  themselves,  and  a  battle-field 
they  made  of  it!  Young  trees  were  suddenly 
Lome  down  in  the  fury  of  the  storm;  branches 
were  snapped  off  and  hurled  away ;  the  fences 
were  laid  low,  and  the  house  shook  in  all  its 
strong  old  ribs. 

In  order  that  no  alarm  should  be  felt  on  Edith's 
account,  uncle  Richard  had  sent  by  one  of  the 
farm-hands  a  message  to  Bayberry  Hills  that  she 
was  safely  sheltered  at  Creek  Farm ;  and  the  girl 
settled  herself  to  a  pleased  enjoyment  of  the 
whole  adventure,  even  of  the  storm  outside. 

"What  a  frightful  storm  it  is,  Richard!"  ex- 
claimed Mrs.  Staines,  with  a  little  shudder,  as 
there  came  a  terrible  onset  of  wind  and  rain  at 
the  windows.  "Did  you  ever  know  anything 
like  it  before?  " 


ONLT  GIRLS.  117 

'*  Yes,  a  few  times  In  my  life,  Lucy ;  but  it's 
what  sailors  would  call  an  'old  rouser  of  a 
gale.'" 

"Are  you  afraid?"  asked  Bessie,  still  flutter- 
ing about  Edith. 

"  O,  no,  child ;  I  think  I  rather  enjoy  it  all." 

"  So  should  I,  if  it  were  not  for  Keefe." 

"  Who  is  Keefe  ?  "  asked  Edith,  whose  curiosity 
was  awake  at  all  points. 

"  O,  he's  the  stage-driver,  and  he  lives  here ; 
and  there's  a  wonderful  story  to  tell  about  him  — 
isn't  there,  uncle  Richard  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  dear." 

"  Well,  now,  supposing  you  tell  it,  little  Miss 
Bessie,"  said  Edith.  "  I  like  stories  immensely." 

Bessie  drew  a  long  breath ;  then  she  turned  to 
her  uncle. 

"You  do  it,  uncle  Richard,"  she  said. 

"  No,  Bessie ;  that  belongs  to  you.  Nobody 
can  tell  Keefe's  story  so  well  as  you." 

Once  fairly  started,  Bessie  forgot  everything 
else,  and  fully  sustained  her  uncle's  testimony. 
She  set  the  whole  scene,  the  old  well  and  her- 
self hanging  there  by  the  broken  curb,  and  Keefe 
as  he  came  to  her  rescue,  in  the  most  vivid,  dra- 


118  ONLY  GIRLS. 

matic  way  before  her  listeners.  You  could  not 
help  living  it  all  over  again.  Indeed,  Mrs.  Staines 
had  to  leave  the  room  before  the  child  was  half 
through. 

Edith  was  greatly  impressed  by  the  whole 
story.  It  flashed  across  her,  of  a  sudden,  that  this 
"  Keefe "  must  be  the  very  stage-driver  whom 
she  had  met  that  afternoon  •  in  the  lane,  and 
whose  face  had  struck  her  with  such  a  curious 
familiarity.  Of  course,  though,  she  could  never 
have  seen  him  before. 

When  Edith  came  to  learn  that  Bessie's  pre- 
server was  actually  staying  at  Creek  Farm,  and 
how  it  had  all  come  about  that  he  was  there,  she 
exclaimed,  — 

"  I  hope  I  shall  see  him ;  I'm  quite  curious  to 
do  it." 

"  The  fellow  is  really  worth  knowing,  Miss 
Folger,"  said  uncle  Richard.  "  He  will  be  likely, 
however,  to  be  very  shy  with  folks  like  you. 
Still  there  is  something  shrewd,  and  sturdy, 
and  original  about  this  Keefe  Bartlett,  if  you 
once  get  through  the  crust.  He's  had  a  rough 
time  of  it  thus  far  —  poor  fellow!  but  I'm 
satisfied  there  is  the  making  of  a  man  in  him." 


ONLY  GIRLS.  110 

Uncle  Richard  seldom  made  mistakes  in  his 
judgments  of  men. 

"  Do  you  think  he  will  get  through  to-night, 
Richard  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Staines,  who  had  returned 
before  this.  "  It  is  time  he  was  here  two  hours 
ago." 

"  Yes ;  but  he  will  have  to  get  over  the  road 
in  the  teeth  of  this  gale.  I  think  he  will  do  it, 
though." 

Less  than  ten  minutes  afterwards  there  came, 
through  howling  winds  and  seas  of  rain,  a  thun- 
derous knock  at  the  side-door. 

"  O,  it's  Keefe ! "  shouted  Bessie ;  and  she 
rushed  to  answer  the  knock,  anticipating  every- 
body else,  and  unbolted  the  door. 

The  wind  made  a  grab  at  her.  It  took  her 
breath,  and  would  have  knocked  her  down  if 
Kcefe  had  not  broken  its  force.  There  he  stood, 
a  big,  dripping  figure  in  the  dark. 

44  That's  you,  I  know,"  exclaimed  Bessie. 
"The  storm  hasn't  carried  you  off,  after  all." 

"O,  no  —  not  so  much  as  my  little  finger, 
though  it's  fought  for  me  every  inch  of  the 
last  ten  miles." 

The  voice  was  loud  and  hearty.  It  was  won- 
derful how  cheerful  Keefe's  tones  had  grown  of 


120  ONLY  GIRLS. 

late ;  indeed,  every  hour  since  he  came  to  Creek 
Farm  had  been  working  some  change  in  him. 

He  was  in  the  hall  by  this  time,  and  uncle 
Richard  came  out  to  find  that  all  was  well  with 
the  stage-driver ;  and  he  got  off  his  dripping  over- 
coat, and  went  up  to  his  room,  and  came  down 
in  a  few  moments,  dried  and  hungry,  and  feeling 
only  the  better  for  his  long,  victorious  battle  with 
the  elements. 

While  he  sat  there  before  a  supper  which 
would  have  sharpened  the  appetite  of  a  far  less 
hungry  man,  Bessie  came  out  to  buzz  about  him 
with  her  news.  It  was  so  very  good,  though,  she 
held  it  back  a  moment,  setting  her  one  grand 
secret  in  a  bordering  of  light  talk. 

"  Uncle  Richard  said  he  knew  you'd  get 
through,  Mr.  Keefe." 

"  Yes ;  I  made  up  my  mind  I'd  hold  on  to 
that  old  Noah's  ark  of  a  stage  until  she  went 
to  pieces,  or  I  did.  Whew !  how  the  wind  did 
roar !  A  grand  thunder  of  artillery  was  nothing 
to  it.  Roads  will  be  badly  Avashed  off  in  places ; " 
helping  himself  to  huge  slices  of  the  huckleberry 
cake. 

Bessie  watched  him  with  the  secret  a-dance  in 
her  radiant  eyes.  t  At  last  it  burst  out. 


ONLT  GIRLS.  121 

"  Guess  what  has  happened,  Mr.  Keefe !  " 

"  I  can't ;  the  wind  has  played  the  mischief 
with  my  wits,  as  well  as  with  the  leaves.  Any- 
thing good?" 

"  O,  yes,  splendidly  good." 

'•  Well,  then,  don't  be  cruel  on  a  fellow ;  let's 
have  it." 

Bessie  and  Keefe  were  the  best  of  friends. 
There  was  nothing  in  the  world  he  was  not 
ready  to  do  for  her.  So  Bessie  told  about  the 
beautiful  young  lady  in  the  other  room,  and  how 
she  had  fallen  asleep  in  the  huckleberry  pasture, 
and  coming  out  had  lost  her  way,  and  how  uncle 
Richard  had  found  her  in  the  road,  and  brought 
her  home  in  the  nick  of  time,  and  how  she  was 
to  pass  the  night  on  account  of  the  storm,  end- 
ing with,  — 

"  O,  I  do  want  you  to  see  her  so !  Make  haste 
and  get  through  with  that  supper." 

Keefe  hardly  sympathized  with  Bessie's  eager- 
ness. Indeed,  during  her  talk  his  thoughts  were 
much  occupied  with  his  stage  and  horses.  It  is 
quite  doubtful  whether  he  more  than  half  took 
in  her  story. 

But  his  supper,  greatly  to  the  impatient  chat- 
terer's delight,  was  over  at  last,  and  she  took  hold 


122  ONLT  GIRLS. 

of  his  hand  and  led  hinj  straight  into  the  room 
where  Edith  sat  with  Bessie's  uncle  and  mother, 
the  girl  a  centre  of  color,  and  grace,  and  loveli- 
ness that  are  indescribable. 

Keefe  gave  a  little  start.  He  knew  her  at  the 
first  glance.  Bessie  introduced  him  with  an  amus- 
ing effort  to  observe  all  the  proprieties.  Edith 
recognized  the  stage-driver  at  once ;  but  the 
mysterious  familiarity  in  his  face  did  not  strike 
her  as  it  had  that  day  when  he  stared  at  her  as 
she  stood  in  the  lane.  Keefe  saw  that  she  did 
not  remember  him,  but  for  all  that  he  could  not 
thaw  out  of  the  silence  and  awkwardness  which 
possessed  him. 

Edith  did  her  best  to  draw  him  out ;  but  every 
time  she  addressed  herself  to  Keefe,  his  heart 
seemed  to  get  painfully  close  to  his  throat,  and 
it  was  as  much  as  he  could  do  to  stammer  out 
an  intelligent  reply.  It  was  like  dancing  in 
fetters. 

The  others  saw  his  constraint ;  so,  in  a  little 
while,  did  Edith,  and  with  her  fine  tact  gave 
over  her  good-natured  attempt  to  draw  the  young 
stage-driver  into  conversation. 

Uncle  Richard  came  to  the  rescue,  asking  Keefe 
questions  about  the  road  and  the  storm ;  and  here 


ONLY  GIRLS.  123 

Keefe  got  on  well  enough ;  but  how  could  he 
talk  with  Edith  Folger?  How  could  he,  re- 
membering — 

Of  a  sudden  the  young  lady  spoke,  more  to 
herself  than  to  anybody  else,  the  thought  com- 
ing out  in  a  breath, — 

"  O,  dear !  I  wonder  if  this  storm  has  got  as 
far  as  Rox  to-night !  " 

"  Who  is  Rox  ?  "  asked  Bessie,  who  had  over- 
heard the  name.  So  had  somebody  else. 

"  He  is  my  own  cousin,  and  just  like  a  brother 
to  me  —  dearer  than  anybody,  indeed,  but  papa." 

"  O,  do  tell  us  something  about  him,"  cried 
Bessie. 

Rox  was  always  a  pleasant  subject  to  Edith. 

"  Well,  what  is  it  you  want  to  hear,  Miss 
Bessie?"  smiling  on  the  eager  little  girl. 

"  O,  something  nice  —  a  real  good  story,  you 
know." 

"A  story:  let  me  see,"  answered  Edith,  med- 
itatively. "  There  are  a  great  many  good  things 
to  tell  about  Rox ,  but  I  don't  know  as  I  can 
think  of  just  the  story  that  will  interest  you." 

"  Didn't  he  ever  do  anything  good,  or  gen- 
erous, or  funny  ?  Those  are  the  kind  I  like," 

t 


124  ONLY  GIRLS. 

answered  Bessie,  quite  innocent  of  any  missing 
link  in  her  pronouns. 

Edith  considered  a  moment;  then  her  face 
flashed  up. 

"  O,  yes,  I  do  remember  something  Rox  did 
once  that  was  all  three,"  she  said.  "  It  happened 
a  good  while  ago." 

Bessie  was  all  ears  and  eyes  now.  The  others, 
too,  waited  for  the  commencement.  Keefe  could 
not  tell  why  his  heart  gave  that  big  thump,  as 
though  something  was  coming.  But  in  a  minute 
more  he  knew,  for  Edith  was  describing  him  as 
he  sat  that  day  just  outside  the  hedge  by 
her  father's  grounds.  You  could  almost  see  him 
there,  through  the  girl's  words  —  a  big,  homely, 
brown  young  Caliban.  Through  all  the  hot 
emotion  that  surged  within  him,  it  did  strike 
Keefe  with  a  grim  sense  of  humor,  that  he 
should  have  such  a  picture  of  himself  held  up 
to  his  gaze. 

Edith  repeated  the  talk  she  had  had  with  the 
stranger.  It  was  wonderful  how  her  memory  re- 
tained every  word.  And  then  she  carried  her 
listeners  into  the  house,  and  went  over  the  conver- 
sation which  had  transpired  between  Rox  and  her- 
self before  he  set  out  for  Plum  Point  Station  ;  and 


AT  FARMER  STAINES.     Page  124. 


ONLT  GIRLS.  125 

Keefe  held  his  breath  so  that  not  a  syllable  should 
escape  him. 

Afterwards  she  went  over  the  whole  scene  on 
the  railroad,  making  hardly  a  mistake  from  begin- 
ning to  end,  for  Edith  told  it  fresh  and  vivid, 
as  Rox  had  written  it  to  her  that  day  on  the  cars. 

There  were  tears  in  the  eyes  of  all  her  lis- 
teners when  she  concluded,  all  but  one,  and 
his  bright  and  dry,  seemed  to  burn  like  flames 
in  his  livid  face.  They  all  felt  his  still  agitation, 
but  they  only  thought  he  was  deeply  moved  by 
the  story.  Bessie  drew  a  deep  breath. 

"•  O,  if  you  could  only  learn  what  became  of 
those  twenty-five  dollars!"  she  said. 

"  I  have  always  been  curious  to  know,"  added 
Edith.  "  I  have  always  felt,  too,  that  there  was 
some  history,  if  one  could  get  down  to  it,  about 
that  money ;  that  it  was  really  a  matter  of  life 
and  death,  as  the  boy  said." 

"  I  had  a  feeling  of  the  same  sort  while  you 
were  talking,  Miss  Folger,"  added  uncle  Richard. 
"  It  is  a  remarkable  story,  and  it  makes  me  want 
to  know  your  cousin  Rox.  We  cannot  always 
follow  our  good  deeds  to  their  results,  but  some 
^time  these  will  come  home,  bringing  their  sheaves 
with  them." 


126  ONLT  GIRLS. 

Keefe's  breath  came  hard ;  he  was  losing  pos- 
session of  himself.  In  a  moment  more  it  seemed 
to  him  that  he  should  spring  to  his  feet  and 
shriek  out, — 

"  It  was  J,  Keefe  Bartlett,  that  sat  by  the 
hedge  that  day;  it  was  I  that  waited  by  the 
railroad ;  and  when  Rox  Coventry  gave  me 
that  money,  he  saved  his  own  life  and  me  from 
murder ! " 

Then  Bessie  Staines's  voice  slipped  softly  into 
the  tumult  of  Keefe's  thoughts. 

"  O,  do  tell  us  some  more  about  Rox !  " 

And  Edith  went  on  to  describe  him — the 
bright,  careless,  handsome  fellow,  with  his  pleas- 
ant, magnetic  ways'  and  jaunty  air,  and  bringing 
up  one  and  another  little  scene  of  their  child- 
hood, sparkling  with  fun  and  comedy,  as  every- 
thing seemed  to  about  Rox,  he  had  so  much 
bright,  wonderful  vitality ;  and  at  last  she  told 
about  this  passion  for  the  hunt  and  bivouac  in 
the  woods  and  on  the  plains,  which  had  seized 
him,  and  how  he  had  gone  off  leaving  them  full 
of  anxieties  on  his  account. 

It  was  late  when  Edith  got  through  with  Rox  ; 
all  the  while  the  silent  figure  in  the  corner  had 
been  watching  her  with  its  bright,  dry  eyes.  It 


ONLT  GIRLS.  127 

fiad  sat  motionless  as  a  statue,  without  making  a 
sound  or  moving  a  muscle ;  yet  the  Agawam 
capitalist's  daughter  had  some  vague,  faint  feel- 
ing of  the  emotion  which  was  stirring  the  soul 
of  the  stage-driver.  She  was  not,  probably,  con- 
scious of  tins  feeling  herself;  nevertheless  it  lay 
at  the  bottom  of  the  last  thing  Edith  Folger 
did  before  she  went  up  to  her  room  that  evening. 

She  had  said  her  good  night  to  the  others,  and 
Bessie  had  hold  of  Edith's  hand,  when  the  young 
lady  turned  suddenly  to  Keefe,  who  had  risen 
from  his  chair,  saying, - 

"  What  shall  I  say  to  you  for  what  you  did 
one  day  for  this  little  girl?"  drawing  Bessie  sud- 
denly to  her  side. 

She  said  it  in  the  sweetest,  most  gracious  way, 
with  her  fair  face  uplifted  to  his.  I  despair  of 
giving  you  any  idea  how  pretty  she  looked  at 
that  moment,  and  how  prettily  it  was  done.  And 
as  he  looked  at  her  that  moment,  the  words  came 
to  Keefe,  and  he  could  not  hold  them  back. 

"  What  shall  I  say  to  you  for  what  you  did  that 
day  for  the  boy  on  the  railroad  ?  " 

"  O,  it  was  not  /  did  that,"  answered  Edith, 
with  her  lovely  ripple  of  laughter.  "  It  was  Rox, 
ou  know." 


128  ONLT   GIRLS. 

"  Yes,  I  know  it  was.  But  Rox  would  never 
have  done  that,  you  see,  if  it  hadn't  been  for 
you ;  "  and  Keefe's  eyes  shone  on  the  girl  with  a 
great  light  in  them. 

She  turned  to  the  others  with  playful  archness. 

"Have  I  been  making  a  heroine  of  myself?" 
she  asked.  "  I  had  no  intention  of  doing  so." 

"We  all  saw  that.  You  only  told  the  truth, 
my  child.  But  Keefe  is  right,  after  all.  And 
I've  rounded  the  point  of  my  threescore  years  some 
time  ago,  but  I  hardly  ever  heard  of  a  generous 
or  noble  deed  without  finding  that,  somehow, 
some  girl  or  woman  —  it  all  amounts  to  the  same 
thing  —  was  sure  to  be  at  the  bottom  of  it." 

I  do  not  believe  that  anything  more  truly  beau- 
tiful and  chivalric  was  ever  said  of  woman  than 
that  speech  of  uncle  Richard  Staines.  Do  you  ? 

The  next  morning,  when  Edith  Folger  inquired 
at  breakfast  for  the  stage-driver,  she  learned  that 
he  had  set  off  an  hour  before  for  Black-Hawk 
Mountain. 


ONLT  GIRLS.  129 


UHAPTER    VII. 

vf^HL'KE'S  a  fight  going  on  in  there,"  said 
the  stage-driver. 

"Well,  it's  lucky  for  me  I  can  keep 
out  of  that  row,  any  way,"  said  the  second 
speaker,  mostly  to  himself,  as  he  sprang  into 
the  stage  and  settled  down  in  a  corner  for  a 
long  nap. 

It  Avas  as  dreary  a  night  as  you  can  imagine, 
drearier  than  my  pen  can  possibly  paint  for  you. 
The  tavern  at  "  Bear  Ranche  "  shot  out  its  lights 
into  the  wide,  yawning  blackness.  That  long, 
low  log  building  just  on  the  edge  of  the  great 
"  sage  desert "  of  the  west  was  the  sole  picture 
of  life  in  all  the  dreary  landscape.  The  winds 
growled  and  shouted  over  the  plains  like  the 
roar  of  distant  seas,  and  shot  great  angry  gusts 
of  rain  at  the  window  where  the  traveller  sat 
in  the  corner  of  the  eastern-bound  stage.  The 
lights  from  the  bar-room  flamed  out  from  the 
9 


' 


130  ONLT  GIRLS. 

small  panes,  and  he  could  hear  the  shuffling  of 
feet  and  the  loud,  angry  voices. 

He  listened  with  a  painful  kind  of  interest, 
yet  thankful  enough  that  he  was  out  of  it  all. 
He  knew  what  men  were  when  whiskey  and 
rage  turned  them  into  demons. 

He  is  a  young  man  still,  but  he  has  learned 
much  in  the  two  years  he  has  been  out  on  the 
plains,  one  of  the  overseers  of  a  large  mining 
company. 

The  voices  inside  grow  louder  and  fiercer. 
The  solitary  passenger  wishes  the  stage  would 
start.  There  are  other  travellers  who  will  join 
him  at  the  last  moment,  but  they  enjoy  the 
warmth,  and  probably  the  tumult  going  on  in- 
side, too  well  to  leave  it  before  it  is  necessary, 
and  there  is  some  trouble  with  the  "leader." 

The  "  overseer "  has  ridden  all  day.  His 
bones  are  stiff  and  tired,  yet  the  prospect  in 
there  is  not  inviting.  He  has  concluded  to  go 
on  to  the  next  station,  although  this  involves 
another  weary  night  in  the  stage. 

"  Passengers,  aboard !  "  shouts  the  driver,  put- 
ting his  head  inside  the  bar-room,  while  a  gust  of 
rain,  which  has  been  watching  its  chance,  makes 
an  angry  rush  in-doors,  slapping  at  the  faces  of 


ONLY   GIRLS.  131 

some  of  the  men  there,  on  which  there  is  a 
fresh  volley  of  coarse  oaths  at  rain  and  driver. 

In  a  moment,  and  as  though  he  were  forced 
against  his  will,  but  drawn  by  some  mysterious 
impulse  which  he  cannot  resist,  the  solitary  pas- 
senger gets  up  from  his  corner  of  the  stage, 
bounds  swiftly  out,  despite  his  stiffened  limbs,  and 
enters  the  long,  low-ceiled  bar-room. 

There  are  men  scattered  all  around  it,  mostly 
in  groups  —  miners,  and  trappers,  and  hunters 
from  the  Hudson  Bay  Company's  posts,  hardened 
and  rough  from  their  coarse,  wild  life  of  plain 
and  wilderness.  Some  of  them  have  thrown 
themselves  half  across  the  counter ;  others  are 
gathered  about  the  stove,  telling  over  coarse 
stories  about  tussles  with  bears  and  brushes  with 
Indians,  while  others  are  scattered  about  on  boxes 
and  chairs  in  all  sorts  of  nondescript  attitudes,  the 
majority  being  engaged  in  pouring  down  coarse 
whiskey,  smoking  vile  tobacco,  and  indulging  in 
loud  guffaws. 

The  new  comer  stood  still  a  moment  looking 
over  this  scene.  It  did  not  surprise  or  horrify 
him.  He  was  used  to  just  such  sights ;  yet 
there  was  a  certain  air  of  cool  self-possession  in 
his  manner,  which  showed  that  he  was  not  in 


132  ONLY  GIRLS. 

sympathy  with  the  coarse,  riotous  spirit  of  the 
place. 

He  was  a  large-framed,  solidly-built  young 
man,  deep  in  his  twenties.  His  face  was  dread- 
fully sunburned,  but  the  large-moulded  features 
had  a  certain  strength  and  good-looking  homeliness 
about  them.  He  wears  a  coarse  gray  suit  and 
a  fur  cap — just  the  things  for  a  traveller  in 
those  latitudes  and  at  that  season  —  it  is  now  on 
the  edge  of  November.  The  men  around  the 
fire  certainly  look  more  picturesque  in  their 
red  and  gray  shirts  and  mud-stained  leathern 
breeches. 

The  crowd  stared  at  the  new  comer  with  an 
idle  kind  of  curiosity.  Most  of  the  travellers 
were  at  the  ranche  over  night,  and  would  take 
the  stages  east  or  west  the  next  morning,  and 
fresh  arrivals  were  nothing  remarkable.  In  one 
corner  was  gathered  the  group  which,  in  the 
vernacular  of  that  place,  were  "  having  a  row." 
There  was  a  table,  with  piles  of  money  and  packs 
of  dirty  cards,  which  told  their  own  story,  and 
the  oil  lamps  flared  on  fierce,  angry  faces. 

All  of  the  company  carried  knives  and  fire- 
arms, and  were  evidently  in  a  dangerous  mood. 
About  the  disputants  some  of  the  loungers  had 


ONLT  GIRLS.  133 

gathered,  with  pipes  in  their  mouths,  "to  enjoy 
the  fun."  The  stranger's  gaze  went  over  at 
once  to  this  group.  He  knew  the  signs  only 
too  well  —  the  rage  that  flamed  up  in  those 
dark  faces,  that  rose  higher  and  higher  in  the 
angry  voices,  would  end  soon  in  something  worse ; 
there  would  be  a  drunken  brawl,  and  somebody 
would  be  hurt  —  killed,  quite  likely. 

The  young  overseer  usually  kept  himself  out 
of  such  scenes.  He  could  not  tell  now  what  im- 
pelled him  to  walk  over  and  join  the  outside 
circle  of  lookers-on  with  their  loud  guffaws,  and 
coarse  tobacco,  and  whiskey-tainted  breaths  ;  but 
he  did  it.  Meanwhile  it  was  high  time  to  be 
gone,  for  the  room  was  fast  being  cleared  of  the 
passengers  for  the  night  stage,  and  he  had  al- 
ready lost  his  pre-empted  seat  in  the  corner. 

A  number  of  men — miners  from  the  gulches, 
to  judge  from  their  appearance  —  were  engaged 
in  the  quarrel;  but  it  had  evidently  arisen  be- 
tween two,  who  formed  a  contrast  to  the  brawny 
figures  about  them.  The  elder  was  a  tall,  dark 
man,  with  a  heavy  beard  and  a  certain  foppish 
smartness  in  his  dress.  He  had  a  bad  face ; 
there  was  something  bold  and  sinister  in  it; 
yet  he  was  a  man  of  the  world,  and  lived  by 


134  ONLY  GIRLS. 

his  wits.  The  overseer  settled  that  with  the 
first  glance.  He  had  found  it  often  necessary 
to  be  swift  in  reading  the  characters  of  men 
since  he  had  been  out  there  among  the  mines. 

The  younger  man  was  slender  and  not  above 
medium  height;  his  face  was  a  good  deal  dis- 
figured by  a  long,  deep  gash  on  one  side,  which 
he  had  received  in  a  fight  or  a  "fall.  There  were 
general  marks  of  dissipation  about  him.  He  wore 
an  old,  slouched  cap,  and  his  clothes  wrere  soiled 
and  seedy,  and  his  hair  and  beard,  of  a  chestnut 
shade,  were  sadly  neglected.  Yet,  despite  all 
these  disfigurements,  there  was  some  glimmering 
of  grace  in  the  manner,  or  it  might  be  in  the  looks, 
of  the  young  man,  which  made  the  overseer  feel 
instinctively  that  he  had  been  at  some  time  of 
his  life  a  gentleman. 

He  was  in  a  towering  rage ;  he .  had  evidently 
been  drinking  deeply,  and  was  insisting  that  his 
opponent  had  cheated  him  infamously  at  poker. 
He  had  caught  more  or  less  of  the  miners'  slang, 
but  there  was  something  in  his  speech  and  his 
tones  which  at  once  indicated  a  higher  culture 
than  those  around  him  possessed. 

Despite  the  excitement — partly  rage,  partly 
intoxication  —  under  which  the  speaker  told  his 


ONLT  GIRLS.  135 

story,  it  was  evident  that  he  believed  he  was 
telling  the  truth,  and  that  he  felt  he  had 
been  outrageously  cheated  by  his  antagonist.  No 
need  to  repeat  what  he  said.  I  would  not  have 
brought  you  into  this  atmosphere  at  all,  if  I  could 
have  helped  it ;  and  we  will  get  away  from  it  as 
soon  as  possible. 

There  was  a  sense  of  rude  justice  at  the  core 
of  these  men,  which  made  itself  felt  through  all 
the  fumes  of  tobacco  and  whiskey.  A  low  mur- 
mur of  sympathy  ran  around  the  circle,  amid 
which  one  rough  miner  took  his  clay  pipe  out 
of  his  mouth,  and  swore  he'd  see  Coventiy  had 
fair  play;  and  another,  a  backwoodsman,  with 
over  six  feet  of  loose  joints  and  raw  bones,  red- 
shirted  and  leathern-breeched,  set  his  half-drained 
glass  of  grog  on  a  stool,  and  swore,  "  that  was  an 
old  dodge  of  the  devil's  and  Denton's ;  he  knew 
him!" 

"What  did  you  call  that  young  man?"  in- 
quired .  the  overseer,  turning  sharply  to  the 
miner  with  the  clay  pipe;  and  he  asked  the 
question  as  though  it  was  a  matter  of  life  and 
death  to  him. 

"  Coventry  —  a  young,  gingerly  brought-up 
chap,  from  the  east.  Pity  he  ever  left  it. 


136  ONLY  GIRLS. 

"Tisn't  the  place  for  such  high-strung  fellows; 
^frog  and  gambling  getting  him  down  to  the 
foot  of  the  liill  double-quick." 

"  O,  my  God!  my  God!"  cried  the  overseer, 
not  loudly,  but  there  was  an  awful  pain  in  his 
words. 

Probably  the  older  gambler  felt  by  tliis  time 
that  the  popular  sentiment  was  setting  strongly 
against  him.  He  was  cool  and  collected  enough 
himself,  and  he  saw  that  he  must  bring  matters 
to  a  crisis.  Let  those  fierce  natures  once  plunge 
into  a  fight,  and  it  would  no  longer  be  a  ques- 
tion of  right  and  wrong,  but  one  simply  of  muscle 
and  luck. 

He  turned  suddenly  and  dealt  his  young  an- 
tagonist a  blow  that  made  the  latter  reel  and 
stagger  like  a  drunken  man. 

"You  call  me  a. liar  and  a  villain  —  do  you? 
That's  the  only  answer  Jack  Denton  has  for 
such  words,"  he  growled,  savagely. 

There  was  a  cry  on  all  sides.  Denton  had  his 
partisans  among  the  miners.  Fists  were  doubled 
and  knives  drawn. 

"We're  in  for  a  fight  now,"  shouted  the  huge 
backwoodsman  with  dangerous-looking  eyes,  as 
he  hastily  gulped  his  glass. 


ONLY  GIRLS.  137 

As  the  young  man,  who  had  been  half  stunned 
by  the  cruel  blow,  recovered  from  its  effects,  he 
whipped  out  a  revolver  from  his  pocket.  It  was 
all  done  in  a  moment.  Denton  had  not  suspected 
his  antagonist  was  armed.  Drink  and  pain  had 
turned  the  latter  for  the  tune  into  a  madman. 
You  saw  the  fierce  glitter  of  rage  in  his  eye ;  he 
was  bent  on  wiping  out  that  insult  Avith  the  blood 
of  his  foe.  There  was  no  tune  for  any  movement 
on  the  part  of  Denton  or  the  crowd  about  him ; 
the  hand  wlu'ch  held  the  pistol  was  swift  as 
lightning ;  it  had  taken  steady  aim ;  it  would 
have  gone  off  the  next  moment,  when  a  hand 
from  behind  suddenly  reached  out  and  struck  up 
the  weapon  with  one  strong  blow,  and  the  pLstol 
lay  at  the  owner's  feet. 

The  surging  crowd  actually  stood  still  as  one 
man  at  the  audacity  of  that  act.  In  that  breath- 
less instant  the  young  man  had  picked  up  his 
weapon  and  turned  to  confront  the  new  of- 
fender. 

It  was  the  overseer,  who  had  come  in,  less 
than  three  minutes  ago,  and  who  was  a  stranger 
to  every  soul  in  the  room,  who  had  struck  up 
the  pistol.  There  was  a  deadly  gleam  in  the 
owner's  eyes ;  he  took  deliberate  aim  at  the 


138  ONLY  GIRLS. 

overseer;  there  was  no  possibility  of  escape  for 
the  latter,  even  if  he  had  sought  it.  He  must 
have  known  that  he  was  in  the  power  of  a 
madman,  and  that  his  life  was  not  worth  a  dol- 
lar's purchase. 

But  he  stood  there  quite  calm,  with  his  arms 
folded  across  his  chest.  He  was  white  to  the 
roots  of  his  hair ;  yet  there  was  something  really 
grand  in  his  courage,  as  he  steadily  looked  the 
death  awaiting  him  in  the  face. 

"  You  intend  to  blow  my  brains  out,  I  see," 
he  said,  not  a  quiver  in  his  voice ;  and  in  all 
that  rude  crowd  you  might  have  heard  the  tick- 
ing of  a  clock. 

"  Precisely !  When  a  man  comes  across  my 
path  as  you  have  done,  he  must  take  the  con- 
sequences." 

The  voice  had  a  cool,  deadly  resolution,  more 
trying  to  the  nerves  than  any  exhibition  of  rage. 
No  doubt  that  the  speaker  meant  precisely  what 
he  said.  He  had  one  of  those  organizations  on 
which  vile  whiskey  acted  with  sudden,  deadly 
effect.  The  overseer  understood  all  that. 

"  Yet  you  are  a  gentleman,  I  think,  and  will 
take  a  last  message  for  me  where  I  shall 
send  it?" 


ONLY  GIRLS.  139 

The  pistol  was  still  aimed  at  the  overseer ;  yet 
tliis  singular  request  did  seem  to  strike  the  would- 
be  murderer  through  all  the  white  heat  of  his 
rage. 

"Well,  gentleman  or  not,  I  shall  keep  my 
word,  both  in  the  killing  and  the  telling.  What 
is  your  message?" 

"  I  want  you,  Rox  Coventry,  to  tell  your  cousin 
Edith  Folger,  of  Agawam,  that  Keefe  Bartlett  sent 
her  his  love  and  thanks  with  his  last  breath,  and 
said  that  when  he  met  her  in  the  next  world  he 
would  tell  her  what  she  had  done  for  him  in  this ; 
and  even  there  she  would  be  glad  to  know  it." 

This  tune  the  pistol  dropped  perceptibly. 
Through  the  glare  of  rage  a  dull  amazement 
seemed  to  strike  slowly. 

"Edith  Folger  —  what  do  you  know  of  her?" 
staring  at  the  overseer  as  though  he  were  a  risen 
ghost. 

"Enough  to  be  certain  that  when  she  learns 
the  work  you  have  done  this  night,  it  will  do  for 
her,  what  she  told  you  it  would,  the  last  time 
you  saw  her,  as  you  sat  in  the  moonlight  on  the 
piazza  at  Bayberry  Hills — break  her  heart ! " 

This  tune  the  shaft  struck  home.  Through 
all  the  frenzy  of  brain  and  heart  the  words  had 


140  ONLY  GIRLS. 

pierced.  That  night,  five  years  ago,  rose  up  with 
its  saintly  watching  moon  overhead,  and  the  soft 
gurgle  of  winds  that  lost  themselves  among  the 
leaves,  and  the  silver  light  that  made  the  earth 
divine,  and  Edith  Folger  sitting  in  her  young 
bloom  and  loveliness  by  his  side. 

The  pistol  dropped  slowly. 

"Edith  Folger!  Little  Edith!"  cried  Rox 
Coventry,  in  a  tone  whose  awful  anguish  those 
who  heard  long  remembered ;  and  then  —  the 
revulsion  had  been  too  great  for  the  strained 
heart  and  brain,  and  Rox  Coventry  sank  in  a 
fit  upon  the  floor. 

The  overseer  knelt  down  by  his  side,  and 
brushed  away  the  long,  beautiful  hair  from  the 
disfigured  face ;  then  he  looked  up  to  the  crowd 
of  men  who  stood  gaping  around,  more  or  less 
impressed  by  the  scene  which  had  just  passed; 
even  that  hard,  cool  villain  Denton  looking  curi- 
DUS  and  amazed. 

This  time  the  fight  was  over. 

"  Let  me  take  charge  of  him,"  said  the  over- 
seer, addressing  the  crowd  about  him. 

Nobody  objected.  The  stage  had  started  off 
some  minutes  before.  Keefe  Bartlett  took  up 
the  limp,  unconscious  figure,  and  carried  it  out 


ONLY  GIRLS.  141 

tenderly  into  a  room  back  of  the  bar,  where  it 
was  quiet,  and  a  wood  fire  was  dying  out  on 
the  hearth,  and  glowing  in  a  soft,  fitful  light 
upon  the  walls.  Keefe  laid  his  burden  tenderly 
on  an  old  lounge  ;  then  he  stood  still  and  looked, 
and  as  he  looked,  he  thought  of  Rox  as  he 
had  watched  him  that  day  going  up  the  railroad 
—  the  lithe,  slender  figure,  so  alert  with  life,  and 
strength,  and  pride ;  and  seeing  him  lying  there 
now,  helpless,  disfigured,  ruined  in  body  and  soul, 
an  awful  sorrow  worked  in  Keefe 's  face. 

"  O  God! "  he  cried,  in  a  great  burst  of  grief; 
"  to  think  what  he  was  —  to  see  him  lying  there 
like  this!" 

And  then,  utterly  overcome,  he  sank  on  his 
knees ;  and  there  in  that  ranche  out  on  the  lonely 
plains,  with  the  loud  voices  and  hoarse  guffaws 
of  the  bar-room  coming  through  the  thin  parti- 
tion, Keefe  Bartlett  gathered  the  head  of  Rox 
Coventry  on  his  knee,  tenderly  as  his  dead 
mother  could  have  done,  and  sobbed  over  it 
like  a  child. 


142  ONLT  GIRLS. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

tHREE  days  had  passed  since  the  fight  in 
the  bar-room  of  Bear  Ranche.  All  this 
time  Rox  Coventry  had  lain  unconscious 
on  the  big  lounge  where  Keefe  Bartlett  had  de- 
posited him.  The  former  had  tended  his  charge 
with  an  untiring  zeal  and  devotion,  which  ex- 
cited the  inmates'  curiosity  and  amazement. 

One  might  almost  have  fancied  the  overseer's 
strong,  stalwart  life  was  bound  up  in  that  of  the 
pallid,  wrecked  youth  who  lay  there  on  the 
lounge,  which  pillows  and  blankets  had  con- 
verted into  a  tolerably  easy  couch  even  for  a 
sick  man,  Keefe  having  levied  heavily  on  the 
bedding  supplies  of  the  ranche. 

For  the  most  part  Rox  lay  in  a  kind  of  stupor, 
the  life  that  hardship  and  excess  had  so  strained 
and  dissipated  either  slowly  ebbing  out,  or  the 
hidden  springs  renewing  themselves  at  their 
sources.  Nobody  could  tell  which;  nobody  had 


ONLT  GIRLS.  143 

any  especial  care,  except  Keefe  Bartlett,  and  he 
would  sit  for  hours,  watching  with  hungry,  sor- 
rowful eyes  the  white,  wasted  face,  which  grew 
more  and  more  into  the  likeness  of  Rox  Coven- 
try, as  the  disfigurement  subsided,  and  sickness 
chiselled  the  features. 

He  was  not  always  an  easy  patient,  either. 
There  were  times  when  a  dreadful  madness  of 
fever  and  delirium  would  leap  suddenly  to  his 
brain,  and  he  would  spring  to  his  feet  with  glar- 
ing eyeballs  and  frenzied  yells.  It  took  all 
Keefe's  strength,  physical  and  moral,  to  master 
him  at  such  times. 

One  and  another  of  the  inmates  at  Bear  Ranche 
used  to  come  in  and  stare  at  the  sick  man,  gener- 
ally shaking  their  heads  before  they  went  out 
with  a  significant,  "You  won't  pull  him  through," 
or,  "  He's  done  for,  this  time ; "  and  the  white, 
wasted  face,  with  the  soul  coming  slowly  back  to 
it,  added  its  own  silent,  pathetic  testimony  to 
these  gratuitous  verdicts. 

One  day,  just  at  twilight,  Rox  opened  his 
eyes  suddenly,  with  the  fierce  gleam  and  the 
glassy  dulness  gone  out  of  them,  and  they  shone 
strangely  out  of  their  great  black  hollows.  He 
had  been  lying  so  still  for  several  hours,  with 


144  ONLY  GIRLS. 

such  a  gray  pallor  on  his  sharpened  face,  too, 
that  a  terrible  fear  had  smitten  Keefe's  heart, 
and  he  had  leaned  his  ear  down  softly  to  the 
other's  lips,  out  of  which  a  thin  flicker  of  breath 
always  came  to  testify  that  Rox  Coventry  was 
not  yet  with  the  dead. 

He  looked  about  him  now  in  a  vague,  per- 
plexed way  at  first,  as  though  he  wondered  how 
he  came  there.  He  saw  the  tawdry  yellow  and 
blue  paper-hangings,  the  crimsons  of  the  sunset 
shining  in  at  the  small  window  panes,  the  huge  log 
in  a  splendid  blaze  on  the  hearth,  and,  best  of  all, 
that  stout,  well-knit  figure  sitting  near  it,  reading 
the  paper. 

Keefe  did  not  speak.  He  knew,  all  the  time, 
by  some  subtile  magnetism,  that  Rox's  eyes  were 
on  him ;  knew  the  very  moment  they  opened,  and 
knew,  also,  that  thought  and  memory  were  slowly 
clearing  up  out  of  fog  and  darkness.  But  they 
must  take  their  own  time,  and  that  was  a  long, 
long  one.  The  sunset  had  paled,  and  the  wind 
was  beginning  to  muster  for  its  old  riot  on  the 
plains,  when  there  came  a  ghost-like  flutter  of  a 
sound  to  Keefe's  sharpened  ears. 

"  I  want  to  look  at  you." 

Keefe   rose   up,   and   went   and   stood  by   the 


THE  OVERSEER  AND  THE  INVALID.     Page  145. 


ONLT  GIRLS.    .  145 

lounge,  with  his  large,  well-shaped  figure,  that 
had  wholly  sloughed  off  the  shambling  awkward- 
ness of  its  boyhood,  strong  and  broad-breasted, 
with  his  fine,  manly  face  —  a  face  to  be  trusted 
anywhere. 

"Well,  here  I  am,"  he  said;  and  his  cheerful, 
hearty  voice  rung  with  the  true  metal  of  the  soul 
behind ;  "a  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  of  good, 
solid  bone  and  muscle  at  your  service,  sir." 

Rox  gazed  with  his  great,  sad,  hollow  eyes  at 
the  stranger. 

"  Who  are  you?"  he  asked  again,  in  that 
feeble,  muffled  voice  of  his. 

"  For  the  last  two  years  overseer  of  the  Red 
Mountain  Gold  Mines,  and  thus  far  on  my.  way 
to  the  east." 

"Your  name?" 

He  had  to  be  chary  of  his  words  yet. 

"  It  won't  mean  anything  to  you,  but  it's 
Keefe  Bartlett." 

The  invalid  pondered  that  a  few  minutes,  but 
evidently  could  make  nothing  of  it.  He  shook 
his  head  in  a  weary  way  at  last.  Then  he  looked 
up  suddenly,  and  asked,  — 

"Are  you  the  man  I  meant  to  shoot  the  other 
night?"  • 

10 


146  ONLT  GIRLS. 

"Yes." 

."  How  long  have  I  been  lying  here  ?  " 

"Three  days." 

"  And  you  have  been  taking  care  of  me  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  What  did  you  do  it  for  ?  " 

"  Because  you  once  did  a  great  favor  to  some- 
body I  happened  to  know.  But  never  mind; 
we  won't  talk  about  that  now.  You  are  out 
of  the  woods.  You're  close  to  the  turnpike,  as 
we  miners  say." 

"I  shaU  get  well,  you  think?" 

"  Sound,  and  hearty,  and  jolly  in  a  little 
while." 

Rox  Coventry  gave  a  little,  sharp  groan. 
There  was  a  dreadful  misery  in  his  eyes,  as  he 
turned  his  head  wearily  a^ay.  All  his  life  for 
the  past  two  or  three  years  rose  up  before  him, 
a  hateful  spectre,  which  he  feared  and  loathed, 
and  yet  which  he  felt  must  follow  and  hunt 
him  through  all  the  days  to  come,  through  eter- 
nities, it  might  be.  He  could  not  wipe  those 
years  sweet  and  clean.  They  must  stand  there 
forever  with  their  folly,  and  waste,  and  wicked- 
ness. 

The  overseer  guessed  at  once  what  was  passing 


ONLY  GIRLS.  147 

in  the  sick  man's  mind.  He  knew  that  if  Rox 
ever  woke  up  and  came  to  himself  again,  he  could 
only  pass  out  from  the  life  he  had  been  leading 
of  late  into  a  finer,  purer  atmosphere  through 
the  dark  valley  of  a  terrible  remorse,  self-loathing, 
and  despair.  Nobody  could  help  him  there. 
That  wine-press  must  be  trodden  alone. 

But  Keefe  did  what  he  could.  He  insisted  on 
Rox's  taking  some  nourishment,  and  he  talked 
to  him  with  that  cheerful,  magnetic  voice  of  his, 
and  he  ministered  to  all  the  invalid's  wants  with 
those  large,  helpful  hands,  soft  in  their  touch  as 
though  they  had  been  a  woman's. 

Rox  was  still  too  weak  to  demur  at  anything. 
He  had  done  a  good  many  kindly  deeds  to  one  and 
another  in  the  days  of  his  indolent,  good-natured 
prosperity,  scattering  abroad,  in  a  thoughtless 
way,  a  good  deal  as  some  happy  May  breeze 
scatters  her  blossoms  broadcast  on  the  dumb, 
waiting  earth.  Doubtless  he  had  helped  some 
friend  or  relative  of  this  man's  over  a  rough 
place ;  but  what  kind  of  nature  was  that  which 
repaid  its  gratitude  with  such  largess  ? 

Rox  asked  this  question  to  himself  a  good 
many  times  during  the  next  day  and  night ;  but 
his  thoughts  groped  and  fumbled  about  in  a  con- 


148  ONLY  GIRLS. 

fused  sort  of  mist,  and  were  always  losing  their 
way,  and  getting  into  the  thick  dark. 

Even  that  tragic  scene  in  the  bar-room  only 
shone  out  upon  his  memory  in  vivid  glimpses  and 
flashes,  and  then  shut  down  into  the  cloud 
again. 

It  seemed  to  him  sometimes  that  the  over- 
seer had  mentioned  Edith  Folger's  name ;  but 
when  he  tried  to  recall  when,  the  whole  thing 
eluded  him,  and  he  was  too  weak  still  to  think 
steadily  or  intently. 

So  a  day  and  a  night  went  by.  All  this  time 
Keefe  Bartlett  had  watched  the  invalid  with  a 
tender,  thoughtful  patience,  ministering  to  all 
his  wants,  seeing  that  he  had  food  and  drink, 
and  warmth  and  air,  and  every  possible  comfort 
which  that  lonely  ranche  away  out  there  on  the 
edge  of  the  sand  barrens  could  command.  The 
tenderest,  most  delicate  love  could  have  done 
no  more. 

Rox  took  it  all  quietly  enough,  too;  the  old 
grace  of  speech  and  manner  shining  through  all 
the  feebleness  and  general  wreck  of  soul  and 
body.  The  grace  was  a  habit,  or  rather  an  in- 
stinct, with  him.  He  never  forgot  to  thank  the 
overseer  for  the  slightest  attention,  and  once  or 


ONLY  GIRLS.  149 

twice  he  had  a  small  joke  —  a  pale  flicker  of  his 
old,  careless  mirth  —  over  the  trouble  he  was 
making.  No  tears  could  have  held  so  much 
pathos. 

But  the  conversation  all  this  time  hardly  got 
beyond  monosyllables,  and  was  confined  to  some 
present  need  or  feeling  of  the  sick  man's. 

But  Keefe  was  waiting.  He  knew  that  the 
talk  must  come ;  and  the  tune  for  it,  too,  came 
sooner  than  he  expected. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening  now.  Rox  had 
been  falling  into  little  dreamy,  restful  dozes 
for  hours.  Keefe  had  been  out  to  see  the  stars 
uway  up  in  the  blue  spaces  of  the  sky,  and  to 
drink  a  few  breaths  of  the  cold,  crisp  ah*,  while 
the  night  winds  sobbed  and  trembled,  and  then, 
taking  heart,  gathered  together,  and  made  a  final 
rush  over  the  wide,  dreary  horizon. 

Keefe  had  been  gone  only  a  few  minutes. 
When  he  returned,  he  found  Rox's  face  turned 
over  on  the  pillow,  with  wide-open  eyes. 

The  sick  man  looked  at  the  stranger,  who  had 
been  showing  more  than  a  brother's  care  for  him 
all  these  days,  with  a  curious  wonder,  which  was 
a  healthful  sign. 

Since  their  last  talk,  Rox  had  seemed  too  feeble 


150  ONLY  GIRLS. 

to  take  any  vivid  interest  in  anything  about 
him. 

The  words  did  not  come  first,  —  only  a  groan ; 
not  loud,  but  there  was  a  throb  in  it  of  self- 
loathing  and  despair. 

Rox  Coventry  had  sinned  against  his  better 
self.  Wronged,  insulted,  outraged,  it  rose  up 
now  out  of  the  dark  years  where  he  had  trampled 
and  wasted  it,  and  stood  before  him  with  its  stern, 
silent,  reproachful  face.  No  wonder  it  wrung  that 
groan  out  of  the  depths  of  him. 

Keefe  knew  what  his  work  was  then.  It  must 
go  deeper  than  the  wasted  body  he  had  been 
tending  so  carefully  all  these  days,  and  reach 
the  springs  of  life  which  were  in  Rox  Cov- 
entry's soul. 

He  came  to  the  side  of  the  lounge  now. 

"What  can  I  do  for  you?" 

"  Nothing,  thank  you.  You've  done  too  much 
already." 

"  Don't  say  that,  I  beg  of  you." 

"  It's  the  truth,  though  ;  and  a  man  who  has 
been  doing  all  these  days  what  you  have  for  me 
would  be  likely  to  want  the  truth.  You've  saved 
my  life,  I  fear!" 

Then  the  two  men  looked  at  each  other,  —  Rox 


ONLT  GIRLS.  151 

with  that  dreadful,  hopeless  anguish  in  his 
eyes;  Keefe  with  a  kind  of  bright,  helpful 
courage,  which  made  his  face  that  moment  —  the 
strong,  homely,  bronzed  face  —  a  little  like  the 
angels. 

"  I've  meant  to,"  he  said,  in  a  half  trium- 
phant, half  reverent  voice,  "and  I've  had"  a 
kind  of  feeling  all  through  that  God  meant  I 
should,  too." 

Rox  shook  his  head  slowly  as  it  lay  there  upon 
the  pillow.  "  It's  a  wasted,  spoiled  life,"  he  said. 
"  These  last  three  years  have  ruined  it.  It  would 
have  been  better  to  let  it  go,  my  friend."  His 
voice  —  the  dry,  hard,  hopeless  voice  —  quivered 
with  a  sudden  softness  over  those  last  words. 

"No.  God  and  I  know  better  than  that. 
Your  life  is  saved  to  courage,  and  help,  and  man- 
liness, and  honor,  Rox  Coventry,  as  you  once 
saved  another's." 

He  did  not  even  then  inquire  whose.  There 
still  stood  before  him,  like  a  visible  presence, 
mute,  and  white,  and  passionless,  with  the  awful 
reproach  in  its  face,  that  wronged,  wasted,  sin- 
ning youth  of  his. 

"  You  don't  know  what  my  life  has  been,"  he 
said,  "  for  the  last  three  years  —  down  in  all  sorts 


152  ONLY  GIRLS. 

of  slums.  I  haven't  courage  to  face  it  now.  I 
don't  want  to  take  it  up  again.  It  will  only  be 
the  old  story  over.  What  good  is  it?  What 
good  have  I  ever  done  ?  " 

These  dreadful  remorses  were  the  natural 
reaction  of  the  bright,  elastic,  finely-strung  or- 
ganization. Rox  had  sinned  against  great  light, 
and  Nature  took  a  revenge  which  she  would 
not  on  a  coarser-fibred  soul  and  body. 

"  You  ask  me  what  good  you  have  ever  done 
—  me!"  said  the  overseer.  His  voice  was  low, 
and  yet  it  seemed  as  though  his  feeling  went 
all  through  the  words,  and  burned  into  them  al- 
most like  a  live  flame. 

They  penetrated  even  the  blackness  of  Rox 
Coventry's  mood  that  night.  He  did  turn  now, 
and  look  at  the  speaker  with  a  kind  of  won- 
dering sympathy. 

"Was  it  some  woman,  —  mother,  sister,  or 
love  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  O,  no,  it  was  a  man  ! "  and  the  oddness  of 
the  question  made  Keefe  Bartlett  smile  a  little, 
even  then. 

"  Was  he  your  brother  ?  " 

"  No,  but  somebody  dear  to  me  as  —  my  own 
soul." 


ONLY  GIRLS.  153 

Then  the  words  came  —  the  words  for  which 
the  other  had  been  waiting  so  long.  "  Tell  me  !  " 

The  rushes  of  wind  grew  louder  outside,  like 
ragged  volleys  of  musketry.  Drifts  of  clouds 
swayed  over,  and  then  dropped  away  from  the 
sweet,  solemn  faces  of  the  stars,  shining  pure 
and  calm  up  there  in  the  heavens,  with  some- 
thing to  say  to  the  soul  of  Rox  Coventry,  if  he 
would  only  turn  and  look  at  them. 

But  he  did  not  now.  The  overseer  had  set 
the  kerosene  lamp  in  the  shade,  and  brought 
the  solitary  wooden  chair  in  the  room  close  to 
the  low  lounge,  and  had  commenced  telling  his 
story. 

You  knew  it  long  ago ;  and  yet,  if  I  could 
only  have  told  it  at  the  beginning  as  Keefe 
Bartlett  did  that  night,  in  that  bare,  low-ceiled 
back  room  of  the  ranche,  —  told  it  with  the  vivid 
life  and  the  simple,  homely  pathos  of  his  words, 
—  it  would  be"  quite  another  story  to  you.  He 
touched  on  that  hard,  bitter,  grinding  childhood 
just  enough  to  make  it  a  background  for  what 
came  after ;  then  he  pictured  the  young  factory 
hand,  in  his  fierce,  homeless  desolation  and  de- 
spair ;  and  as  Keefe  talked,  it  all  came  back 
upon  his  soul,  vivid  and  real  as  yesterday;  and 


154  ONLY  GIRLS. 

once  more  he  stood  in  the  corner  by  the  office, 
drinking  in  with  sullen,  envious  greed  the 
talk  which  transpired  that  morning  between  the 
Agawam  Mills  proprietor  and  his  nephew.  There 
was  a  swift  thrill,  much  like  an  electric  shock, 
all  through  the  figure  on  the  lounge,  and  'the 
sharpened  face  there  suddenly  brightened  into 
eager,  wondering  curiosity.  You  know  the  very 
point  at  which  Rox's  memory  cleared,  and  took 
up  the  thread  of  a  story  in  which  he  was  the 
principal  actor. 

He  hung  breathless  upon  every  word  after 
that.  He  followed  Keefe  to  the  corner  by  the 
hedge,  where  the  latter  had  that  strange  interview 
with  Edith  Folger ;  and  the  half  grave,  half  gay 
talk  with  which  Rox  could  have  supplemented  all 
that  came  up  now.  He  sat  at  the  small  lunch- 
table  in  the  alcove,  with  the  soft,  pale  suuniness 
coming  in  at  the  windows,  and  little,  happy 
flickers  of  wind  among  the  honeysuckles,  and 
Edith's  sweet  face  just  opposite  him.  It  seemed 
to  Rox  like  a  glimpse  into  Paradise  after  the 
door  has  been  shut. 

But  Keefe  kept  on  talking,  and  Rox  soon  for- 
got everything  els'e,  holding  his  breath  back  not 
to  lose  a  syllable.  He  went  down  that  lonely 


ONLT  GIRLS.  155 

track  again,  on  his  way  to  Plum  Point  Station, 
and  he  knew  now  that  Death  was  following  close 
behind  him  in  the  dark-faced,  lumpish  figure  of 
the  factory  hand! 

The  overseer's  face  grew  white  as  he  talked. 
There  was  a  husky  tremble  in  his  voice  sometimes, 
and  once  or  twice  he  paused,  and  pushed  back 
his  hair  with  a  swift,  agitated  motion;  but  the 
story  kept  on  for  all  that,  not  leaving  out  a 
sentence  which  had  passed  that  noon  between 
the  two  as  they  stood  in  the  tunnel-shaped  hollow 
of  the  hills,  until  the  whole  ended,  at  last,  with 
the  factory  boy  lying  alone  on  the  ground,  the 
twenty-five  dollars  spread  out  in  his  palm,  and 
the  hum  of  the  bees  in  the  grasses,  and  the  soft, 
gray-bellied  clouds  overhead,  and  Rox  rushing 
gayly  down  the  track,  in  his  youth  and  pride, 
not  knowing  what  Shadow  had  passed  close 
to  him! 

Everything  had  been  slowly  coming  out  strong 
and  clear  in  Rox's  memory,  as  some  painting, 
touched  by  the  dawn,  grows  slowly  out  of  the 
dark,  until  the  whole  is  fresh  and  perfect. 

Young  Coventry  saw,  as  he  had  seen  it  that 
day,  the  large,  lumbering  figure  of  the  young 
workman.  It  was  not  singular  that  he  discerned 


156  ONLT  GIRLS. 

no  hint  of  this  in  the  broad-chested,  well-built 
overseer.  It  had  taken  years  and  manhood  to 
set  free  what  grace  and  elasticity  lurked  in  the 
boy's  heavy,  overgrown  figure. 

When  he  paused  at  last,  Rox  knew  all,  even 
to  the  throwing  the  pistol  into  the  river.  The 
speaker  was  not  conscious  of  it,  but  quivering  in 
the  thick  mustache  were  drops  which  had  fallen 
from  his  eyes  while  he  talked. 

Rox  put  his  thin  hands  over  his  face.  You 
could  see  the  warm  rain  of  tears  through  his 
fingers.  The  talk  had  gone  where  the  overseer 
meant  it  should  —  to  the  hurt  and  despair  in 
the  young  man's  soul. 

"I  did  not  suppose  that  in  all  this  wasted, 
ruined  life  of  mine  I  had  ever  done  so  much 
good.  I  thought  I  had  lived  in  vain,  —  utterly 
in  vain,"  he  murmured  under  his  breath. 

"  In  vain !  "  echoed  the  deep,  shaken  voice  of 
the  overseer.  "  When  you  saved  that  boy  from 
murder ;  saved  him  to  courage,  and  honor,  and 
manhood;  to  all  that  he  is  now,  or,  ever  will 
be !  and  you  tell  me,  Rox  Coventry,  that  your 
life  has  been  in  vain?" 

Rox  took  away  his  hands  from  his  face,  —  that 
handsome,  wasted  face  of  his,  —  and  the  despair 


ONLT  GIRLS.  157 

which  had  dulled  and  sharpened  it  a  little  wliile 
ago  was  partly  gone. 

He  looked  at  the  overseer  with  some  grateful 
wonder  in  his  eyes.  "And  you  have  been  do- 
ing all  this  for  me,"  he  said,  "  because  of  what 
I  did  that  day !  How  you  must  have  loved 
him  ! " 

"I  loved  him,"  said  the  overseer  softly;  but 
I  think  you  might  have  heard  his  voice  a  long 
way,  "  as  I  told  you,  —  like  my  own  soul !  " 

"I  wish  I  could  see  that  man — your  friend  — 
once,"  said  Rox,  in  a  kind  of  sad,  weaned  voice. 
"  If  I  could  just  take  his  hand,  and  look  into 
his  eyes,  and  he  could  tell  me  what  you  have 
done,  —  I  am  not  sure, — but  it  almost  seems  that 
would  give  me  courage  to  take  up  my  life  again, 
and  see  what  I  could  do  with  it." 

Then  the  overseer  stood  up.  He  leaned  over 
the  low  lounge.  There  was  a  great  joy  in  his 
eyes.  It  grew  aud  grew  until  it  gathered  the 
whole  face  up  into  its  light.  "  Rox  Coventry." 
he  said,  —  and  his  voice  had  some  new,  clear 
ring  in  it,  as  though  the  gladness  in  liis  eyes 
had  somehow  got  down  iuto  his  tones,  —  "  /  am 
the  very  boy  who  waited  to  rob  —  if  need  were, 
to  murder  —  you  that  day  on  the  railroad;  the 


158  ONLY  GIRLS. 

boy  who  owes  to  you  all  that  he  is  this  hour ! 
Will  you  shake  hands  with  me  ?  " 

Rox  actually  sprang  up  in  bed  as  though  a 
shot  had  struck  him.  He  stared  at  the  overseer 
with  his  burning  eyes  set  in  their  great  black 
hollows.  Whether  any  of  the  old  likeness  of 
Keefe  Bartlett,  as  he  stood  that  day  on  the 
track,  entered  ghost-like  into  Keefe's  face,  I 
cannot  tell ;  but  it  never  entered  Rox's  thought 
to  doubt  one  word  of  all  which  the  overseer  had 
spoken ;  not  one. 

He  tried  to  speak.  He  placed  both  his  hands 
in  the  warm,  brown  ones  of  his  friend,  and  then 
—  there  were  no  words  —  the  two  men  cried 
together. 

There  was  no  sleep  for  either  of  them  that 
night.  Keefe's  story  had  not  ended  yet.  There 
was  the  rescue  of  Bessie  Staines  from  the  old 
well,  where  she  hung  between  the  quiet  sky, 
that  watched  above,  and  the  cold,  quiet  water, 
that  waited  beneath ;  and  when  the  two  years 
.had  slipped  between,  there  was  the  wonderful 
night  at  Bayberry  Hills,  with  Rox  and  Edith 
on  the  veranda,  just  as  he  had  seen  her  last ; 
"just  a;s  he  could  never  see  her  again,"  Rox  had 
often  told  himself,  when  the  sweet  face  of  his 


- GIRLS.  159 

cousin  came  up  before  him  like  a  sorrowful,  ac- 
cusing angel,  and  the  silver  glory  of  the  moon- 
light was  always  around  her,  as  it  had  been 
that  night  at  Bayberry  Hills.  "Poor  little 
Edith,"  Rox  murmured  to  himself  a  good  many 
times  that  night,  in  his  mournful,  weak  voice. 
It  was  more  than  a  year  now  since  he  had  heard 
from  her.  She  had  written  the  last  letter',  to 
which  he  had  never  replied.  How  that  must 
have  hurt  her ! 

And  now  Keefe's  story  went  off  to  Creek 
Farm,  and  told  about  his  first  visit  there,  and 
the  little  girl  who  stood  in  the  back  yard  feed- 
ing her  colt,  and  how  the  grand  old  farmer  had 
found  him  watching  behind  the  barberry  clumps, 
and  how  Bessie  had  come  to  meet  him,  and  the 
joyful  welcome  that  followed,  and  the  happy 
summer  home  at  Creek  Farm,  —  the  happiest  of 
his  life,  —  with  the  great,  warm-souled  man,  and 

the  little  girl  with  the  wonderful  purplish  eyes, 

• 

and  the  sad,  mother-faced  woman. 

And  then  there  was,  to  crown  all,  the  night 
when  the  storm  came,  and  set  Edith  Folger  under 
the  roof-tree  of  Creek  Farm,  and  the  story  she 
told  there  to  Keefe  Bartlett ;  and  Rox,  listening 
in  wondering  amazement,  forgot  to  say  any  more, 


160  ONLY  GIRLS. 

"Poor  little  Edith!"  "but  all  the  time  the  words 
ran  in  his  heart. 

It  was  very  late  when  Keefe  stopped  talking, 
and  the  wind  had  gone  down  outside,  and  all 
the  loud,  coarse  laughter,  the  clicking  of  glasses, 
the  heavy  clatter  of  boots,  which,  coming  from 
the  next  room,  had  mingled  with  Keefe's  talk, 
was  still  now.  The  passengers  had  mostly  dis- 
appeared in  the  night  stages,  and  the  few  who 
remained  had  dropped  asleep  on  the  floor  and 
benches. 

Keefe  Bartlett  rose  up,  and  stood  once  more 
by  the  lounge.  "Perhaps  I've  done  wrong  to 
tell  you  all  this  to-night,"  he  said,  seeing  the 
tired,  white  face  on  the  pillows. 

Rox  took  the  large,  brown  hand  in  both  his 
slender  ones.  "  My  friend,"  he  said,  "  how  shall 
I  thank  you  ?  " 

"  How  what  ?  Do  I  not  stand  here  the  soul 
that  under  God  you  saved?" 

Rox  looked  up  then.  There  was  a  sudden 
light  in  his  eyes,  which  made  him  look  for  the 
first  time  like  old  Rox  Coventry. 

"  And  now,  because  of  what  I  owe  you,  I  am 
going  to  save  you,  Rox  Coventry !  You  must  let 
me  do  it !  " 


ONLY  GIRLS.  161 

The  strong,  clear,  hopeful  voice  !  It  would  have 
put  courage  into  any  soul,  it  seemed. 

Rox  looked  up  doubtfully.  He  remembered  all 
the  wrong,  and  weakness,  and  sin,  the  slums  in 
which,  during  these  past  years,  he  had  mired  and 
trailed  his  soul.  The  worst  of  it  all  was,  the 
fibre  of  his  will  seemed  eaten  away,  his  moral 
energies  broken.  "  I've  no  faith  in  myself," 
said  Rox,  drearily.  "  I  don't  believe  I'm  worth 
saving." 

"I'm  to  be  the  judge  of  that,"  answered  the 
hearty,  helpful  voice.  "/,  and  beyond  that, 
God!" 

Rox  looked  once  more  at  the  broad,  stalwart 
figure ;  at  the  fine,  honest  face.  A  sudden  hope 
swelled  in  his  soul  and  lit  up  his  eyes.  He  placed 
his  hands  in  the  overseer's.  "  If  you  will  help 
me,  my  friend,  I  will  tiy !  " 

And  as  lie  said  those  words,  the  dawn  sent 
its  first  cold,  gray  flicker  through  the  small 
window-panes  into  the  back  room  of  Bear 
Ranche. 

There  was  some  hard  work  for  Rox  Coventry 
and  Keefe  Barllett  after  this.     His  own  nature, 
against  which  he  had  sinned  so  deeply,  took  an 
11 


162  ONLT  GIRLS. 

awful  revenge  on  the  young  man.  It  could  not 
be  otherwise.  He  had  sinned  against  so  much 
light,  and  now  his  glooms  and  remorses  were 
terrible.  I  do  not  want  to  make  Rox  Coventry's 
fall  any  wofse  than  it  had  been.  He  had  con- 
stantly been  surrounded  by  men  far  more  de- 
praved than  himself,  and  in  his  deepest  lapses 
he  had  never  quite  let  go  those  old  instincts  of 
honor  and  manhood  which  had  shaped  the  ideal 
.of  Rox  Coventry's  youth. 

There  was  no  soul  of  man  or  woman  who 
could  rise  up  against  him  in  awful  witness  that 
he  had  spoiled  it.  But  after  all,  when  you  re- 
member what  Rox  Coventry  had  been,  and 
brought  the  two  likenesses  together,  it  was 
only  to  say,  with  Hamlet,  — 

"  Look  here  upon  this  picture,  and  on  this  !  " 

For  Rox  had  clear  vision.  He  had  discerned  the 
beauty  and  majesty  of  goodness ;  therefore  his  sin 
had  been  the  greater. 

Thrown  totally  upon  himself,  surrounded  by 
the  coarse,  demoralizing  influences  of  a  frontier 
life,  he  had  slowly  taken  on  the  complexion  of 
things  about  him.  His  indolent,  good-natured, 


ONLY  GIRLS.  163 

absorbent  temperament  had  not  resisted  the 
poison  of  low  associations. 

It  was  no  apology  for  him  that  only  a  well- 
poised,  lofty -tempered  character  could  have  done 
this. 

I  will  do  Rox  Coventry  the  credit  to  say  that, 
in  his  weakest  hours,  he  never  condescended  to 
wrap  his  sins  in  any  such  flimsy  garments  of  excuse. 

He  had  found  the  gravitation  downward  very 
easy.  Drinking  and  gambling  did  not  seem  very 
bad,  after  all,  where  they  were  the  social  habit, 
and  at  last  the  tone,  the  talk,  the  very  atmos- 
pheres of  men  whom  his  soul  had  loathed  at  the 
beginning,  became  tolerable  or  agreeable  to  Rox 
Coventry. 

Then  bad  tidings  came  from  the  east  —  ruinous 
financial  speculations,  and  wreck  of  most  of  his 
fortune. 

"  The  gods  mean  to  desert  me ! "  muttered  Rox 
Coventry ;  and  that  prophecy  is  very  likely  to 
work  out  its  own  fulfilment. 

Keefe  Bartlett  found  .that,  during  the  next 
week,  he  had  to  do  some  of  the  hardest  work 
of  his  life ;  and  that  was,  infusing  moral  tone, 
hope,  courage,  into  a  human  soul. 

Lifted  up  for  a  time  into  the  warmth  and  light 


164  ONLY  GIRLS. 

of  some  higher  mood,  Rox,  with  his  shaken  nerves 
and  impressible  temperament,  was  always  sinking 
down  into  some  dark,  cold  gulf  of  self-accusation 
and  despair.  It  was  right  .here  that  Keefe's 
broad,  helpful  strength  came  to  the  rescue.  He 
argued,  entreated,  sustained.  There  was,  about 
all  that  he  said  and  did,  the  power  of  one  who 
had  wrestled  with  evil,  and  hi  the  end  had  not 
been  vanquished. 

This  was  really  the  secret  of  the  former  factory 
hand's  influence  over  Rox;  Keefe  Bartlett  was 
himself  a  better  argument  than  any  he  could  offer, 
as  character  is  always  mightier  than  words. 

From  time  to  time  he  gave  Rox  glimpses  into 
the  misery  of  his  boyhood ;  into  the  struggle 
and  the  hard  grind  of  poverty.  Rox  remembered 
his  own  gay,  pampered  youth  with  unutterable 
stabs  of  self-reproach. 

In  his  weakness  of  soul  and  body,  he  clung  to 
Keefe  as  one  exhausted  in  deep  water  clings  to 
the  strong  swimmer ;  and  the  overseer  proved 
himself  equal  to  the  burden,  although  Rox's 
passions  of  remorse  and  despair  wrung  his  friend's 
breast  with  an  aching  pity. 

But  that  friend  was  strong,  helpful,  master- 
ful. And  then  to  think  of  their  relative  posi- 


ONLY  GIRLS.  165 

tions  a  few  years  ago ;  think  out  of  what  place 
and  circumstance  Keefe  Bartlett  had  lifted 
himself !  There  was  something  morally  sublime 
in  that  fact,  before  which  Rox's  soul  stood 
awed  and  ashamed.  How  in  the  face  of  that 
great  fact  could  Rox  Coventry,  even  with  his 
weakened  forces  of  body  and  soul,  dare  to  say 
still  that  "the  gods  were  against  him"? 

One  night,  a  week  after  Rox  had  learned  his 
friend's  story,  the  two  young  men  sat  together 
in  the  small  back  room  at  Bear  Ranche.  The 
stage  would  be  along  in  a  little  while,  and  the 
two  were  to  take  it. 

Rox,  pale  and  emaciated  enough,  seemed  little 
able  to  endure  the  fatigue  of  a  stage  journey ; 
but  liis  hungry  eagerness  to  be  off  had  at  last 
induced  his  friend  to  consent  to  his  going.  At 
immense  pains,  the  latter  had  secured  fur  skins 
and  warm  robes,  in  which  the  slender  youth  was 
to  be  buried  during  the  long  night  ride.  Outside 
it  was  very  clear.  Little,  tender  sobs  of  wind 
seemed  to  haunt  the  air,  and  overhead  there 
were  countless  stars,  and  among  them  a  small, 
thin,  golden  blade  of  new  moon. 

Rox  was  speaking.     There  was  some  freshening 


ONLT  GIRLS. 

in  his  tones  that  made  them  seem  like  the  echo 
of  Rox  Coventry's.  Of  late  they  had  sounded 
as  though  they  came  out  of  a  grave,  in  their 
dead-hopefulness.  "  What  a  kind,  strong,  help- 
ful patience  you  have  shown  to  me  all  this  time ! 
What  a  debt  I  shall  owe  you,  Keefe  Bartlett,  if 
I  ever  do  come  back  to  any  life  worth  the  living  !  " 

Keefe  rose  and  stood,  broad,  and  strong,  and 
stalwart,  before  the  other.  "  You  seem  to  forget 
that  what  stands  in  these  boots  owes  you  any- 
thing ;  that  whatever  service  I  may  render  you, 
I  must  be  immeasurably  in  your  debt,  Rox 
Coventry ! " 

"As  though  you  haven't  paid  that  a  thou- 
sand times  over! " 

"Can  a  man  pay  for  his  soul?"  asked  Keefe 
solemnly,  but  with  a  great  light  in  the  eyes  he 
benton  Rox. 

"  Well,  whatever  good  there  was  in  it,  I  don't 
deserve  half  the  credit.  If  it  had  not  been  for 
Edith's  talk  that  morning  —  what  a  brute  I've 
been  to  her! — the  thing  never  would  have 
entered  into  my  mind.  You  owe  the  thanks  to 
her,  not  to  me,  Keefe  Bartlett." 

"  And  I  owe  some  other  thanks,  too,"  said 
Keefe,  half  speaking  to  himself,  in  a  low,  tender 


ONLT  GIRLS.  167 

tone.  "  Tliere  was  that  little  girl  I  pulled  out 
of  the  well.  I  see  her  now,  with  her  small, 
peaked  face,  and  the  great,  velvety  eyes,  that 
seemed  the  most  of  it,  as  they  looked  up  and 
searched  me  before  she  said,  *  O,  I  know  you 
are  a  good  man  ;  nobody  in  the  world  could  make 
me  believe  you  were  anything  but  that ! '  I  hear 
the  clear,  fresh,  childish  voice,  slipping  along  the 
words,  now.  I  heard  them  so  often  afterwards  in 
the  dark  and  strain.  They  helped  me  up  and 
out  into  the  light.  I  might  have  gone  back,  even 
after  what  you  had  done,  Coventry,  if  it  had  not 
been  for  that  child's  words  —  for  her  faith  in  me." 

The  tears  came  into  Rox's  great,  sad  eyes. 
"You  grand  old  fellow!"  he  said.  "What  a 
fight  you  have  had,  and  how  nobly  you  have 
won ! "  Then  he  added  in  a  moment,  "  Only 
girls !  only  girls !  but  what  do  we  owe  them ! " 

"  It  comes  back  again,  after  all,  to  that  old  say- 
ing of  uncle  Richard's.  There  never  was  a  true 
or  noble  deed  in  the  world  without  some  woman 
or  girl  was  at  the  bottom  of  it.  I  believe  it." 

Keefe  Bartlett  drew  himself  to  his  full  height ; 
there  was  a  light  all  over  his  face ;  he  did  look 
rather  grand  as  he  said  this. 

"  So  do  I,"  added  Rox,  with  a  sudden  flash  of 


168  ONLY  GIRLS. 

his  old  fire.  "And  if  the  miserable  wreck  which 
sits  here  rolled  up  in  your  furs  and  skins,  Keefe 
Bartlett,  ever  gets  to  be  man  enough  to  go  back 
and  face  Edith  Folger,  I  shall  tell  her  all  this." 

"  I  wonder  if  I  shall  ever  see  Bessie  Staines 
again,  and  tell  her,"  said  Keefe  to  himself,  hardly 
above  his  breath. 

At  that  moment  there  was  a  distant  rumble, 
then  a  thud  of  horses'  feet,  and  a  clattering, 
grinding  •  plunge  and  rush  outside. 

The  stage  had  come ! 


ONLT  GIRLS. 


169 


CHAPTER    IX. 

fNCLE   RICHARD!"  she  said.     "Uncle 
Richard !  " 

If  you  had  heard  the  voice,  you  would 
have  been  likely  to  pause  a  moment  and  listen, 
as  one  does  when  the  sweetness  of  robin  or  thrush 
breaks  suddenly  out  of  some  thicket  near  by.  It 
was  such  a  pleasant  voice,  with  a  clear,  soft,  silvery 
ring  in  it,  it  could  bear  to  raise  its  key,  too, 
without  getting  thin  or  sharp,  as  voices  are  apt 
to  when  they  mount  into  the  high  notes.  It 
seemed  as  though  some  real  brightness  of  the 
heart  lingered  along  the  dissyllables  and  shut 
itself  down  with  that  final  dental. 

If  you  had  turned  back,  as,  hearing  that  voice, 
you  would  be  most  likely  to  do,  and  looked  up 
the  lane,  out  of  which  the  words  came,  you 
would  have  seen  the  speaker. 

She  had  come  up  from  a  little  branch-path  that 
led  off  from  the  highway,  and  she  was  leaning 


170  ONLY  &IRLS. 

on  the  stone-wall  which  enclosed  the  great  apple- 
orchard.  It  was  a  delicious  day  on  the  hither 
side  of  October,  a  warm,  golden  soul  of  fore- 
noon glowing  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  hours. 
The  air  was  full  of  warm,  rich  smells.  All  about 
the  girl  were  the  vast  heaps  of  shade  thrown 
by  the  wild-cherries  —  great  kingly  trees,  with  a 
few  purplish-black  globes,  still  showing  amidst 
the  pale-gold  of  the  thinning  leaves.  A  Virginia 
creeper  flashed  its  crimson  flame  across  the  stone- 
wall close  to  where  the  girl  was  standing.  She 
had  gathered  some  pansies  —  deep,  bright  gold, 
with  a  narrow  crimping  of  maroon  at  the  edges  — 
from  a  bed  thick  with  bloom,  a  little  way  off. 
While  she  spoke,  she  quite  unconsciously  laid  the 
blossoms  against  the  coral  of  the  creeper.  The 
contrasts  struck  her  fine  sense  of  beauty  ;  but,  for 
all  that,  the  eyes  gazing  down  on  leaf  and  blossom 
had  a  far  absent-mindedness  in  their  depths. 

And  such  eyes  as  they  were!  The  soul  and 
beauty  of  that  girl's  face  as  she  leaned  over  the 
stone-wall  in  the  brown,  warm  air  of  the  October 
morning !  The  rest  of  the  face  was  nothing  very 
remarkable.  It  had  a  certain  bright  piquancy 
all  over  its  olive-glow.  There  were  red  lips  with 
dimples  that  could  flash  out  prettily  among  the 


ONLY  GIRLS.  171 

smiles,  and  there  was  the  soft  roundness  of  youth 
on  cheek  and  chin,  and  hair  with  a  chestnut  gloss 
over  all ,  but  the  eyes  were  still,  what  they  had 
been  in  its  sallow,  peaked  childhood,  the  charm 
and  beauty  of  Bessie  Staines's  face.  They  still 
made  you  think  of  pansies,  and  damsons,  and 
purplish  velvety  things,  in  their  dark,  bright 
clearness.  She  wore  a  cambric  this  morning, 
the  white  ground  barred  with  pink,  and  a  straw 
hat  with  a  bit  of  snow-white  plume.  Everything 
was  fresh  and  tasteful  about  her  ;  the  country- 
bred  girl  did  not  aspire  to  fine  ladies'  toilets  any 
more  than  she  took  on  their  airs. 

Uncle  Richard,  in  the  far  corner  of  the  orchard, 
busy  with  two  or  three  of  the  farm-hands  in 
gathering  apples  for  the  cider-mill,  heard  the 
voice,  and  came  up  through  the  shadows  and 
the  fine,  fruity  scents,  and  the  grass  over  which 
the  white  frosts  had  crept  with  a  little,  saddening 
chill.  These  ten  years  since  we  saw  him  have 
been  dealing  gently  with  the  man.  His  hair  is  a 
little  thinner  and  grayer,  and  his  step  a  little 
heavier,  and  the  great,  tender  soul  of  the  far- 
mer has  been  getting  more  and  more  into  his 
face.  There  is  something  really  grand  about  him 


172  ONLT  GIRLS. 

as  he  takes  off  his  hat  and  wipes  the  perspiration 
from  his  forehead. 

"  Well,  my  child,  is  it  anything  this  time  ?  " 
smiling  on  her  with  a  tender  pleasantness. 

"  Yes,  it  is  something  really,"  snapping  off  the 
maroons  and  crimsons  of  the  vine  in  a  nervous 
way ,  and  then,  looking  up,  she  meets  the  curious, 
waiting  smile  in  his  eyes.  "  It  is  very  funny,  too, 
and  a  boggle  withal.  I  want  you  to  help  me." 

"  Something,  and  funny,  and  a  boggle.  I  can't 
put  the  three  together,  child,  and  make  it  out." 

"And  I  can't  tell  you,  though  I've  walked 
three  quarters  of  a  mile,  and  left  Betty  under 
an  avalanche  of  preserving  quinces,  and  cling- 
stones, and  green-gages ;  it  was  cruel,  I  know,  but 
I  wanted  to  hear  you  say,  I'd  done  right,  wholly 
right."  Her  voice  fell  a  little  with  some  doubt 
or  shyness  in  these  last  words;  and  there  was 
a  little1  thrill  of  a  blush  under  the  olive  of  her 
cheeks  —  they  were  not  in  the  least  rosy  cheeks ; 
they  never  would  be. 

Uncle  Richard  began  to  have  an  inkling  of 
what  had  brought  his  niece  away  out  here  to  the 
apple-orchard  in  the  warm  forenoon,  right  in  the 
heat,  too,  of  a  "  preserving  dispensation."  He 
put  his  large  brown  hand  over  the  small,  restless 


ONLr  GIRLS.  173 

one  among  the  blaze  of  leaves.  "  Shall  I  guess  ?  " 
he  asked,  simply. 

"  O,  yes  ;  only  you  never  can." 

There  was  a  little  amused  lifting  of  his  iron- 
gray  eyebrows;  and  then  uncle  Richard  said  in 
the  quietest  way,  "  Has  Dr.  Fleming  been  round 
to  inquire  after  mother's  nerves  this  morning? 
and  after  he  was  through  with  his  professional 
call,  did  he  ask  to  have  a  private  interview  with 
the  daughter?" 

She  gave  a  start ;  a  real  rose-glow  spread  all 
over  her  face  now ;  the  eyes,  with  a  bright  wonder 
in  them,  stared  in  a  half-scared  way  at  the  man. 
"  Uncle  Richard,  how  did  you  know  ? "  she 
faltered. 

A  shrewd  light  came  all  over  the  large,  fine 
face.  "  O,  I  am  an  old  man,  and  I  know  the 
weather-signs,  Bessie." 

"But  you  don't  think  /did?  "  a  sudden  grave 
anxiety  in  her  tones. 

"  O,  no,"  in  the  tenderest  voice.  "I  know  my 
little  girl  better  than  that  —  better  than  that." 

"And  you  know  I  meant  to  do  right  always, 
and  never  dreamed  of  this?" 

"  I  know  it,  Bes-ir." 

"  But  it  came  so  sudden  !  and  it's  flurried  and 


174  ONLY  GIRLS. 

worried  me.  Mother  is  so  shaken  and  easily 
excited  now,  that  I  did  not  dare  to  go  to  her 
with  it,  and  I  wanted  to  tell  somebody,  and  so  I 
had  to  rush  with  my  secret  over  to  the  apple- 
orchard  and  —  you." 

That  little  monosyllabic  ending  was  touched 
with  such  unutterable  trust  and  tenderness,  though 
the  fingers  still  shook  nervously,  fumbling  at  the 
running  flames  of  vine.  * 

She  had  come  to  the  best  and  strongest  sue 
knew  for  help  in  her  young  doubt  and  tremulous- 
ness  ;  the  man  saw  that,  and,  what  was  better 
still,  he  saw  the  kind  of  help  she  needed. 

"  Suppose  you  tell  me,"  he  said.  "  Or  what  if 
we  should  change  positions  a  moment,  and  I  should 
tell  you?" 

There  were  little  wavy  breezes  of  laughter  all 
through  her  answer.  "  O,  you  can't  make  me 
believe  you  can  do  that,  you  old  necromancer." 

"  Will  you  let  me  try,  then  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  a  little  breathlessly. 

"I  think  it  must  have  happened  very  much  in 
this  way.  Dr.  Fleming  made  a  very  proper, 
gentlemanly,  dignified  speech  about  the  friendly 
regard  which  had  deepened  into  admiration,  and 
at  last  affection,  and  ended  wilh  some  fine  ex- 


ONLY  GIRLS.  175 

pressions  of  devotion,  and  an  offer  of  whatever 
was  included  in  himself,  heart  and  hand ;  worldly 
possessions,  of  course,  thrown  in ;  it  was  all  done 
in  the  most  faultless  manner.  Dr.  Fleming 
knows  how,  and  he  is  a  gentleman." 

The  large,  purplish  eyes  had  been  growing 
dark  with  amazement.  The  girl  broke  out  now 
— "  Uncle  Richard,  you  take  my  breath  away. 
How  did  you  know?" 

"  O,  I've  seen  it  coming  a  good  while." 

"  And  not  told  me  —  put  me  upon  my  guard  ?  " 
There  was  just  a  hint  of  grieved  reproach  in  her 
voice. 

"  It  could  do  no  good  ;  only  embarrass  my  little 
girl,  and  I  could  trust  her  instincts  to  do  right 
when  the  time  came.  Thank  God  for  that." 

She  drew  a  long  breath,  with  a  little  ache  or 
doubt  in  it. 

"  Suppose  I  try  again,  I  succeeded  so  well  at 
first?" 

"  Well,  you  may,  uncle  Richard." 

"  I  think  the  little  girl  I  know  sitting  in  the 
west  parlor  blushed  and  fluttered  with  a  good 
many  feelings,  hearing  all  this ;  but  when  it  was 
through,  and  her  tune  had  come  to  speak,  I  sus- 
pect that  she  looked  at  Dr.  Fleming  with  her 


176  ONLY  GIRLS. 

honest  face,  and  said  with  a  quiver,  it  may  be,  in 
her  voice,  but  for  all  that  with  a  straightforward- 
ness which  left  no  doubt  of  her  meaning,  —  said 
something  very  much  like  this :  '  You  have  done 
me  a  great  honor,  Dr.  Fleming.  I  shall  never 
cease  to  be  grateful  to  you.  I  never  dreamed 
of  it ;  you  must  know  that,  and  I  am  very  sorry 
that  I  can  give  you  in  return  only  liking  and  re- 
spect; but  I  do  these  so  thoroughly  that  I  can 
never  allow  you  to  marry  a  woman  who  does  not 
give  you  her  whole  heart.' ' 

Not  the  girl's  eyes  alone  this  time,  but  her 
whole  face,  seemed  actually  to  have  a  scared  thrill 
of  amazement.  "  Uncle  Richard,"  she  said,  under 
her  breath,  "  what  does  it  mean  ?  One  would 
think  you  must  have  been  listening  in  the  china 
closet." 

The  older  man  laughed  the  round,  mellow 
laugh  which  could  only  come  out  of  a  soul  true 
and  sweet  with  the  seasoning  of  the  years. 
"On  my  honor,  I  wasn't,"  he  said.  "I  was  out 
here  getting  my  russets  ready  for  the  cider-mill." 

She  did  not  laugh  in  turn  this  time.  There 
was  a  little  doubt  or  tremble  in  her  voice  as 
she  asked,  "And  you  think  I  did  right,  uncle 
Richard?" 


ONLY  GIRLS.  177 

The  answer  came,  solemn  and  prompt,  and  very 
tender,  "  Just  right,  my  darling." 

She  brightened  up  quickly  at  that. 

"  I  was  a  little  afraid,"  she  said.  "  It  always 
seems  to  me  that  a  woman  is  more  or  less  re- 
sponsible for  her  offers ;  but  Dr.  Fleming  is  so 
much  older  than  I,  and  always  seemed  so  im- 
mensely my  superior,  that  I've  joked  and  chatted 
with  him  much  as  I  should  with  you.  Anything 
like  a  flirtation  is  just  horrible  to  me."  A  little 
fiery  gesture  of  scorn  supplemented  the  words. 

•"•  lie  will  never  think  you  meant  that  —  be 
at  ease  there,  Bessie." 

At  the  calm,  reassuring  words,  a  mist  of  tears 
flashed  visible  across  her  eyes.  "  O,  it  does  me 
good  to  hear  you  say  that.  I  have  been  thinking 
it  might  seem  to  him  I  was  to  blame  for  what 
had  happened." 

"  Set  your  sensitive  little  soul  at  peace  there." 

"  It  seems  as  though  it  must  all  be  a  dream ; 
a  great  deal  more  than  the  one  I  had  last  nighfc. 
To  think  Dr.  Fleming,  with  his  position,  and  his 
culture,  and  his  handsome  middle-age,  should 
have  taken  a  fancy  to  just  little  me !  Why,  think 
of  the  brilliant,  accomplished  women  who  would 
be  proud  to  marry  him !  I  don't  deny  I  am  very 
12 


178  ONLY  GIRLS. 

much  flattered,  but  I  am  honestly  a  great  deal 
more  astounded,  uncle  Richard." 

"  I  see  you  are.  Suppose  we  settle  it  all  with 
the  old  adage  that  '  there  is  no  accounting  for 
men's  tastes.'  I  will  not  express  my  private 
opinion  about  the  doctor's." 

There  were  some  more  little  breezes  of  laugh- 
ter waving  about  the  air,  and  she  pulled  his 
gray  beard  with  a  sudden  playfulness.  Seeing 
that,  you  would  hardly  have  wondered  at  the 
doctor's  tastes,  although  her  pretty  playfulness 
formed  a  very  small  part  of  the  real  attractions 
of  Bessie  Staines. 

Her  uncle  leaned  with  a  sudden  impulse  over 
the  wall,  drew  the  girl  to  his  heart,  and  kissed 
her  cheeks. 

"  She  wasn't  ready  to  leave  her  old  uncle — was 
she  ?  "  he  said ;  and  if  you  had  heard  the  words, 
you  would  have  had  some  -new  sense  of  what 
that  girl  was  to  him. 

"No;  I  don't  believe  she  ever  will  be,  uncle 
Richard!" 

There  was  no  need  she  should  add  anything 
to  that.  In  a  moment  she  spoke  again. 

"  I  think  my  wits  were  a  little  dazed  by  my 
dream  last  night,  and  this  morning's  experience 


ONLY  GIRLS.  179 

quite  upset  them.  Ordinarily  I  should  have  be- 
haved better." 

"You've  no  reason  to  reflect  on  yourself,  my 
dear.  But-  what  was  the  dream  ?  "  . 

"It  is  sure  to  come  once  in  a  great  while ;  I 
fear  it  will  as  long  as  I  live.  I  am  a  little  girl 
again,  and  hanging  in  that  old  horror  on  the 
well  curb,  and  the  sky  looks  down  on  me  just 
as  it  did  that  day,  with  its  calm,  pitiless  blue, 
and  the  water  waits  below  with  its  bright,  deadly 
gleam,  and  there  I  hang ;  and  it  is  all  so  dread- 
fully real ;  and  all  of  a  sudden  I  hear  the  swift, 
loud  rush  of  steps,  and  a  voice  is  shouting  to 
me  to  hold  on,  and  I  shall  be  saved  ;  and,  looking 
up,  I  see  that  boy's  face  leaning  over  the  curb. 
I  suppose  it  was  a  dreadfully  homely  one,  uncle 
Richard,  but  it  always  looks  beautiful  to  me,  as  it 
did  that  day ;  and  then  with  a  shock  of  gladness 
and  terror  I  am  sure  to  wake  up  precisely  at  that 
point.  But  the  dream  or  the  reality  —  I  don't 
know  which  —  is  sure  to  haunt  me  for  days  after- 
wards. 

"  I  don't  like  to  have  it,  my  child.  Try  and 
push  the  whole  behind  with  pleasanter  memories." 

"  That's  precisely  what  I  do.  But  the  dream 
always  brings  that  Keefe  Bartlett  —  poor  fellow! 


180  ONLT  GIRLS. 

—  up  to  me  with  singular  vividness.  "What  do 
you  suppose  has  become  of  him  ?  " 

"  I  should  extremely  like  to  know.  I've  always 
had  a  feeling  we  should  learn  some  time.  There 
was  the  making  of  a  man  in  that  youth." 

"I  have  a  kind  of  instinct,"  —  and  now  the 
girl's  small,  rather  brown  fingers  played  with  less 
nervous  touches  with  some  of  the  bright  vermilion 
leaves  of  the  creeper,  —  "  that  no  harm  has  come 
to  him,  and  that  some  time  we  shall  see  him. 
It  is  singular,  though,  that  he  has  never  written 
in  all  this  time." 

"  Yes ;  and  the  poor  fellow  seemed  so  grateful 
when  he  was  with  us.  I've  an  instinct,  as  you 
say,  however,  that  he  will  come  back  some  time, 
and  justify  himself." 

"  O,  uncle,"  the  girl  burst  out  at  this  point, 
"  I  could  stay  here  in  this  delicious  morning  and 
talk  with  you  forever ;  but  there's  the  preserv- 
ing." 

There  was  a  glint  of  humor  in  the  gray 
eyes. 

"From  proposing  to  preserving,  Bessie!  It's 
a  .heavy  plunge,  but  I  see  it's  not  going  to 
swamp  you." 

"  O,    no ;    you've    steadied    and  strengthened 


ONLT  GIRLS.-  181 

me.  What  do  girls  do  who  have  no  uncle 
Richards  ?  " 

"  And  what  do  uncle  Richard's  do  who  have 
no  Bessies?" 

She  had  gone  down  the  lane  a  little  way,  when 
he  called  that  out  to  her,  gone  with  the  last 
loving  brightness  of  her  smile,  turned  Lack 

to  him,  with  the  soft  golden  air  of  the  October 

• 

morning  all  around  her.  She  heard  the  autumn 
sounds,  the  humming  hush  of  insects,  the  low, 

I 

clear  gurgle  of  springs  about  stumps  and  stones, 
the  tender  rustle  of  falling  leaves,  and  faint 
breezes,  that  seemed  like  the  still  steps  of  wor- 
shippers. All  around  her  were  the  glory  and 
splendor  of  a  year,  perfected  and  transfigured. 
There  was  a  still,  unutterable  gladness  at  her 
heart.  She  forgot  all  about  her  dream,  all  about 
the  disturbing  trouble  of  the  morning. 

Richard  Staines  leaned  in  his  shirt-sleeves  on 
the  stone-wall,  and  gazed  after  the  rapid  figure, 
pink  and  white  bars  showing  finely  against  the 
dark  greens  of  the  lane. 

The  man's  eyes  were  full  of  ineffable  tender- 
ness as  he  murmured, — 

"  What  a  wife  the  woman  would  make  who 
t.ikes  a  proposal  like  this  as  that  girl  has  done !  " 


182  ONLT  GIRLS. 

I  have  held  up  this  little  side-scene  to  you  be- 
cause I  know  of  no  better  way  to  show  you  what 
kind  of  woman  had  burgeoned  out  of  the  tawny, 
peaked  child,  whom  Keefe  Bartlett,  twelve  years 
before,  had  drawn  out  of  the  well. 

And  if,  in  this  half  hour  by  the  stone-wall,  you 
have  not  seen  the  real,  vital  woman  shining 
through  all  light  disguises  of  speech  and  manner 
— you  never  will  I 


ONLY  GIRLS. 


183 


CHAPTER  X. 

PAPA,  it  only  proves  the  immortal  truth 
of    the   old    song,    '  There  is  no   place 
like  home.' ' 
Her  voice   fell  from  its  young  brightness  into 
the  dear  old  sweetness  of  the  tune. 

It  was  Edith  Folger's  own  voice.  If  you  had 
heard  it  when  it  said  its  good  by  to  Rox  Coventry 
on  the  door-stone,  you  would  have  recognized  the 
bright,  silvery  quality  still.  Twelve  years  ago ! 
and  yet  it  did  not  seem  possible,  looking  at  that 
girl  as  she  sat  there  before  the  fire-light.  If  I 
were  going  to  describe  her,  I  should  have  to  do  it 
in  the  very  words  which  I  used  at  the  beginning. 
How  gently  these  silent,  mighty  magicians  of  years 
which  had  been  dealing  hardly  with  so  many  faces, 
deepening  the  wrinkles  and  frosting  the  hair,  had 
dealt  with  hers !  They  had  only  added  a  finer 
charm  to  the  wonderful  sweetness  of  the  face, 
and  the  big,  dusky  blue  eyes,  and  the  glossy  hair 


184  ONLY  GIRLS. 

with  flickers  as  though  bright  live  things  were 
lost  in  it,  and  the  pretty,  unsteady  flush  of  the 
cheek  were  all  here  to-night  as  she  turned  to 
her  father  with  a  smile. 

And  then  you  did  see  some  change.  The 
sweetness  had  not  been  lost,  only  the  years  had 
added  something  to  it  —  something  of  feeling, 
tenderness,  sadness. 

There  must  have  been  some  griefs  or  aches  in 
her  life,  —  all  lives  have  those,  you  know,  —  but 
when  the  pain  touches  soul  and  smile  as  they 
had  touched  Edith  Folger's,  they  never  do  any 
harm  —  I  mean  vital  harm. 

There  she  sat  in  a  sky-blue  jacket,  with  a  golden 
vine  in  bright,  heavy  embroidery  around  the 
edges  of  sleeves  and  lapels.  She  was  in  the 
library,  a  small,  cosy  room  which  opened  out  of 
the  large  one  where  so  long  ago  she  and  Rox 
had  eaten  their  lunch  before  he  started  for  Plum 
Point  Station,  not  suspecting  what  was  lying  in 
wait  for  him  on  the  road. 

There  was  a  wood-fire  on  the  hearth,  with 
great,  brass  fire-dogs  which  had  belonged  to 
Edith's  grandmother. 

There  was  one  wide,  beautiful  cloud  of  flame. 
It  swept  back-log  and  fore-stick  into  its  golden 


ONLT  GIRLS.  185 

splendor,  and  rolled  up  the  chimney  after  the 
wind  in  a  grand  triumph  of  blaze.  It  shed  a 
bright  glory  over  the  whole  room,  and  seemed 
to  quite  put  out  the  pale,  silvery  gleam  of  the 
gas-lights.  Opposite  Edith  sat  her  father,  with 
his  papers ;  the  owner  of  Agawam  Cotton  Mills, 
more  prosperous  and  portly  than  ever. 

The  years  Had  not  dealt  quite  so  gently  with 
him  as  they  had  with  his  daughter ;  still  they 
have  not  been  hard  on  the  great  man  of 
Agawam. 

You  would  know  him  at  once  for  the  brisk, 
prosperous  manufacturer,  who  had  that  pleasant 
talk  with  his  nephew  so  long  ago  on  the  office 
doorsteps.  His  movements  are  a  thought  slower 
now,  and  his  hair  has  turned  quite  gray,  and  he 
is  in  his  own  house,  the  "  urbane,  hospitable, 
jocose  ' '  gentleman  we  first  knew. 

The  two  had  only  returned  the  day  before  from 
a  year's  tour  in  Europe.  Mr.  Folger  had  gone 
abroad  partly  for  his  health,  partly  for  his  daugh- 
ter's sake.  London  and  Paris,  Rome  and  Venice, 
the  Alps  and  the  Rhine,  cathedrals  and  picture- 
galleries  had  engrossed  their  thought  and  time 
during  the  last  year,  and  yet  both  felt  a  supreme, 
restful  satisfaction  in  tilting,  that  frosty  October 


186  ONLT  GIRLS. 

night,  in  that  small,  dark,  wainscoted  library 
before  that  glowing  wood-fire. 

Mr.  Folger  put  down  his  paper.  "There  may 
be  just  as  good  places  in  the  world  as  Agawam," 
he  said,  "  but  I  have  never  found  them." 

"  Nor  I,  papa,  in  all  our  rushings." 

He  looked  at  her  and  smiled  with  a  fond  pride. 
"  I'm  afraid  it  will  seem  a  little  humdrum,  after 
the  first  novelty  has  worn  off,  to  settle  down  into 
the  old  ways  and  places." . 

"  It's  a  groundless  fear,  papa.  The  dear  old 
•ways  and  places !  All  that  grand  Europe  across 
the  sea  has  nothing  like  them." 

He  smiled  on  her  again  with  affectionate  pride. 
"  I  had  a  fear,  sometimes,  they  might  make  my 
little  girl  think  the  contrary." 

She  understood  what  he  meant.  The  flush  in 
her  cheek  was  like  a  school-girl's.  Evidently  the 
world  had  not  spoiled  her.  "  Papa,"  —  with  a 
kind  of  swift  annoyance  in  her  voice,  —  "I  did 
not  suppose  you  could  be  so  absurd.  As  though 
anything  would  ever  be  to  me  like  you  and 
Agawam  !  " 

"  Well,  so  long  as  you  are  in  that  frame  of  mind, 
I  shall  be  absolutely  satisfied,"  laughed  the  gentle- 
man ;  and  ho  returned  to  his  paper. 


ONLT  GIRLS.  187 

Edith  sat  a  good  while  very  still,  watching 
the  swift,  golden  current  of  flame.  Shadows  of 
thoughts  and  memories  came  into  her  face,  and 
made  a  tender  sadness  there. 

At  last  she  drew  out  a  long,  sighing  "  O, 
dear !  " 

"What  is  it?"  said  her  father,  putting  down 
his  paper  again. 

"  Old  things  come  up  so,  papa ! "  a  kind  of 
plaintiveness  in  her  voice. 

"What  things?" 

"  Lojjg  ago  things.  Tunes  and  scenes.  I've 
been  all  around  the  house  and  rooms  to-day ;  and 
in  every  path,  and  covert,  and  corner,  the  old, 
happy  days  started  up  and  haunted  me.  Poor 
Rox!" 

Her  father  was  always  impatient  when  she 
mentioned  that  name.  He  had  been  dreadfully 
disappointed  and  angry  at  the  way  his  sister's 
son  had  "turned  out,"  and  his  condemnation  of 
his  nephew's  course  had  been  so  severe,  that 
Edith  had,  of  late  years,  almost  forborne  to  men- 
tion her  cousin's  name;  the  sharp  blame  hurt 
her  so. 

Her  father  moved   uneasily  in   his  arm-chair. 


188  ONLT  GIRLS. 

She  knew  what  was  coming,  and  hastened  to 
avert  it. 

"  Everything  brings  him  back  to  me,"  she  said. 
"  It  seems  as  though  he  had  left  hints  and  re- 
minders of  himself  in  every  place :  there  are  the 
stag's  antlers  above  my  chamber  door,  that  he 
placed  there  on  my  birthday,  and  brackets  in  the 
corners,  and  engravings  on  the  walls  ;  and  outside 
it  is  just  the  same:  shrubs  and  vines  that  he 
planted,  and  the  pretty  rockery  he  made,  with 
that  lovely  group  of  Dryads  to  crown  it,  and  they 
all  seem  a  part  of  himself.  He  was  such  a  grand, 
generous,  noble  'fellow,  until  he  went  out  west, 
and  I  loved  him  instead  of  the  brother  I  never 
had.  Poor  Rox  !  "  and  the  dusky-blue  eyes  glim- 
mered through  tears. 

"  I  can't  have  any  patience  with  the  fellow," 
said  Bryant  Folger,  in  a  tone  where  you  could 
feel  the  grief  struggling  with  the  strong  man's 
disappointment,  "  when  I  remember  "what  his  op- 
portunities were,  and  what  he  has  thrown  away. 

"  What  right  had  he,  with  his  gifts  and  culture, 
to  set  off  .for  the  frontiers,  and  sink  himself  into 
vagabondage  amongst  rough  miners,  hunters,  and 
rascals  in  general ! 

"  Wrecked  his  fortune,   too,   when  he    might 


ONLT  GIRLS.  189 

have  staid  at  home  and  saved  the  bulk.  I  had 
a  plan  of  taking  him  into  the  mills,  giving  him 
a  grand  berth  there ;  but  if  a  man's  once  bent 
on  going  to  the  devil,  you  can't  stop  him." 

"  But  maybe  the  Lord  can  !  "  exclaimed  Edith, 
with  some  feeling  that  seemed  almost  defiance 
kindling  in  her  face,  "  and  I  don't  believe  lie  has 
done  with  Rox.  I  know  that  bit  of  a  letter  I  got 
more  than  a  year  ago,  might  be  only  what  you. 
called  it,  a  "  thin  streak  of  remorse ; "  but  there 
were  some  words  which  had  a  true  ring  in  them 
— '  I  have  come  to  the  grief  which  you  said,  that 
last  night  when  we  sat  in  the  moonlight,  —  the 
night  I  have  never  forgotten,  —  would  break  your 
heart  ! 

" '  Don't  let  me  do  that,  Edith.  I  haven't  much 
faith  in  myself;  but  if  I  ever  get  to  be  a  man 
again,  I  shall  come  back  and  ask  you  to  forgive 
me,  and  then  3-011  will  know  all  the  share  you 
have  had  in -saving  me." 

She  knew  the  words  by  heart.  She  went  over 
them  now  in  a  soft,  tender  undertone,  almost 
as  one  might  last  loving  words  from  the  dead. 

"  Such  a  letter  seems,  I  know,  a  very  frail 
reed  to  lean  on  ;  but  I  can't  help  feeling  what  he 
says  is  true,  and  I  cannot  give  him  up,  papa — 


190  ONLT  GIRLS. 

the  old  Rox  I  was  so  proud  of — that  I  loved  and 
trusted  so." 

"  Well,  child,  you  needn't.  I  hope  the  young 
rascal  will  come  to  his  senses  yet.  There  was 
such  good  stuff  in  him,  if  it  had  only  been  well 
seasoned,  before  he  took  that  mad  fever  of  play- 
ing savage  —  much  good  has  it  done  him.  But  let 
him  go  for  to-night ;  and,  my  dear,  I  should  like 
to  hear  you  play  '  Sweet  Home '  again,  and  then 
it  will  be  bed-time." 

She  rose  up  at  once,  and  went  to  the  piano  on 
one  side  of  the  library,  running  her  fair  fingers 
over  the  familiar  keys.  A  sudden  sweetness  of 
sounds  thrilled  the  air,  and  then  there  was  a 
knock  at  the  door. 

Edith  half  paused  and  answered,  thinking  it 
was  one  of  the  servants.  The  door  opened,  and 
the  figure  of  a  man  stood  there ;  rather  slender 
and  young,  with  a  thick,  brown  beard. 

He  stood  quite  still  a  moment,  when  his  gaze 
met  the  girl  at  the  piano.  As  for  her,  she  stared 
a  moment,  and  then  a  swift  change  came  over 
her ;  she  grew  very  white. 

"Edith!"  he  said,  "Edith!" 

Then  she  knew  it  was  he,  and  not  a  ghost  in 
the  doorway,  staring  at  her.  She  sprang  to  her 


ONLY  GIRLS, 

feet,  her  whole  face  in  a  radiant,  unutterable 
gladness. 

"Rox!  O,  Rox!"  she  faltered. 

"tl  have  come  back,  Edith,  as  I  told  you  I 
would,  if  I  ever  grew  to  be  a  man  again ;  but  I 
have  no  right  here  until  I  have  heard  you  say 
you  forgive  me." 

She  did  not  say  it,  because  she  could  not ;  but 
she  put  out  her  arms,  and  he  took  her  into  his 
and  kissed  her. 

All  this  time  Bryant  Folger  had  stood  by  the 
mantel  in  dumb  amazement.  The  nephew  had 
not  seen  his  uncle,  but  of  a  sudden,  Edith  lifted 
her  head  and  drew  him  over  to  her  father. 
"  Papa,"  she  said,  —  and  there  rang  through  her 
low,  clear  voice  a  bright,  ineffable  gladness,  as 
though  an  angel  was  speaking  out  of  some  long 
waiting  and  doubt  that  ended  hi  joyful  certainty, 
—  "it  is  the  old  Rox  come  back  again." 

Her  father  looked  a  moment  at  the  fine,  manly 
face,  at  the  figure,  heavier  and  broader  now,  but 
still  carrying  itself  with  the  old  slender  grace  of 
the  youth ;  then  he,  too,  put  out  his  hands,  and 
grasped  and  wrung  his  nephew's. 

"  Rox,  my  boy,"  he  said,  "  welcome  home 
again." 


192  ONLY  GIRLS. 

What  a  night  they  had!  sitting  up  through 
the  whole  of  it  to  talk.  The  silent  frosts  at  work 
meanwhile  outside,  and  at  last,  a  cold,  gray-blue 
dawn  creeping  up  across  the  dark  before  they 
separated. 

The  talk  went  everywhere,  except  to  that  black 
past,  which  Rox  would  never  hold  up  to  human 
gaze.  That  was  between  himself  and  God ! 

The  dark  gulf  lay  in  his  life,  with  all  its  awful 
remorses,  and  bitter  memories,  and  out  of  their 
despair  the  old  Rox  Coventry  had  come,  a  wiser, 
tenderer,  nobler  man  than  the  generous,  luxuri- 
ous, careless  youth  could  ever  have  made  him. 

What  touched  him  deepest  of  all  was  that  there 
were  no  reproaches,  no  hints  of  anything  gone 
wrong  from  any  side.  It  was  as  though  he  had 
been  absent  for  a  day,  and  returned  at  night  to 
the  heart  of  the  old  home  at  Agawam. 

He  had  something,  however,  to  say  to  Edith 
alone ;  he  could  not  confide  it  even  to  the  gener- 
ous forbearance  of  his  uncle. 

He  said  it  next  day,  as  they  two  sat  together 
in  the  warm,  golden  noon  by  a  great  bay-window, 
with  the  broad,  green  terraces  just  below,  and 
the  flower-beds  beyond,  in  all  the  splendid  blaze 
of  their  autumn  bloom. 


ONLT  GIRLS.  193 

• 

"  Edith,  I  want  to  tell  you  something  about  it." 

She  understood.  "Don't  do  it,  if  it  must  be 
a  pain,  Rox." 

"  It  would  be  if  I  kept  it  to  myself.  This  part 
belongs  to  you." 

And  then  he  told  her  about  that  night 
at  the  stage  station  on  the  plains.  She  wax  A 
woman  now.  She  knew  there  were  wrong  and 
sin  in  the  world ;  she  could  bear  to  look  at  them, 
when  need  were,  with  her  pure,  pitying  eyes. 

Rox,  it  is  true,  did  not  paint  the  whole  scene 
which  had  transpired  that  evening,  four  years 
ago,  in  the  bar-room  of  Bear  Ranche. 

Uut  he  told  his  cousin  how  the  wild,  rough 
life,  the  varied  hardships,  the  companionship  of 
coar.se,  bad  men,  above  all,  the  vile  drink,  had 
done  their  evil  work  on  soul  and  body ;  how  a 
friend  had  found  him  in  the  midst  of  low  com- 
panions,  frenzied  with  rum  and  rage,  and  saved 
Rox,  at  the  very  last  moment,  from  commit- 
ting murder ;  how,  when  consciousness  and  life  it- 
self had  almost  ebbed,  this  friend  staid  behind  in 
that  lonely  ranche,  nursing  him  back  to  life  and 
hope,  with  more  than  a  mother's  tenderness ;  how 
at  last  they  had  gone  away  together;  how  this 
friend,  strong,  uplifting,  brave,  patient  as  Rox 
13 


194  ONLT  GIRLS. 

t 

had  thought  none  but  God  could  be,  had  borne 
with  him,  revising  his  previous  intention  of  re- 
turning east,  in  order  that  he  and  Rox  might 
remain  together;  and  his  example,  and  love, 
and  helpful  courage  had  shamed,  and  urged,  and 
at  last  brought  back  young  Coventry  to  his  old 
better  self,  to  some  manhood  stronger  and  nobler 
than  that,  he  hoped,  to  God. 

Rox  had  been  with  this  friend  for  the  most 
part  during  the  last  four  years,  as  book-keeper  at 
first,  later  as  assistant  superintendent  of  the 
mines. 

Edith  was  greatly  moved  with  the  whole 
story,  though  she  listened  quietly,  with  her 
hand  shading  her  eyes,  and  a  tremble  about 
her  lips. 

"If  I  could  only  once  see  and  thank  that 
man, — your  friend,  Rox." 

"  My  friend  —  yes,  Edith,  more  than  that ;.  my 
preserver,  without  whom  I  should  not  be  sitting 
here  to-day." 

There  was  a  little  solemn,  beautiful  silence. 

"  But  you  forget,  Rox,  you  haven't  told  me 
his  name." 

"  Keefe  Bartlett  —  just !  " 

"  Keefe  Bartlett!"     She   repeated  it   once   or 


ONLT  GIRLS.  195 

twice.  "  It  seems  as  though  I  must  have  heard 
it  before.  I  am  sure  I  have !  " 

He  let  her  ponder  for  a  while,  watching  her 
with  a  curious,  pleased  look.  At  last  it  all  cleared 
up  in  a  flash.  There  was  the  fierce  gale  outside, 
and  the  pleasant  sitting-room  at  Creek  Farm, 
with  the  grand  old  master,  and  the  sad,  kindly- 
faced  mother ;  and  there  was  Bessie  Staines  with 
her  wonderful  eyes,  and  the  dark-faced  silent 
young  stage-driver,  who  had  dragged  her  out 
of  the  well ,  and  Edith  herself  was  sitting  in 
their  midst  telling  the  story  of  Rox's  walk  to 
Plum  Point  Station,  and  the  strange  thing  that 
happened  on  the  way. 

"  Did  he  remember  ?  "  she  faltered. 

"  Yes,  Edith,  if  it  had  not  been  for  you,  Keefe 
Bartlett  w^ould  never  have  known  me  that  night 
at  Bear  Ranche  station." 

This  was  strictly  true."  There  was  more  be- 
yond, but  that  involved  another's  secret.  Perhaps 
Edith  would  know  some  time. 

She  believed  now  it  was  her  story,  that  night, 
which  had  awakened  this  profound  interest  for 
her  cousin  in  Keefe  Bartlett's  soul,  ending  at  last 
in  his  long,  beautiful  service. 

"  How  wonderful   it   all   is !  "   she   murmured. 


196  ONLY  GIRLS. 

"And  he  had  had  no  chances,  I  remember,  of 
any  sort;  he  was  only  a  stage-driver." 

"No  matter  —  he  is  a  real  hero;  the  grandest, 
noblest  fellow  in  the  world ! "  said  Rox,  enthu- 
siastically. 

But  Edith  was  crying ;  tears  that  were  more 
than  words  in  their  silent,  unutterable,  prayer- 
ful joy. 

At  last  she  looked  up  with  her  glad,  wet  face. 
"This  friend  of  yours,  Rox,  —  where  is  he?" 

"At  Creek  Farm  —  if  not  now,  in  a  day  or 
two." 

"  You  will  take  me  out  there,  Rox  ?  It  seems 
the  fitting  place  to  thank  him." 

"Yes." 


ONLT  GIRLS. 


197 


CHAPTER    XI. 

rHERE  it  was !  Somebody  at  the  front 
door !  Bessie  Staines  was  sorry  to  hear 
the  loud,  sharp,  twanging  sound  of  the 
old  brass  knocker  which  had  done  duty  at  Creek 
Farm  for  half  a  century.  The  summons  came  like 
a  harsh,  intrusive  voice  from  that  outer  world 
which  seemed  to  have  no  rights  here  to-night. 
She  wanted  to  shut  every  foreign  thing  out  from 
the  heart  of  this  beautiful  home  quiet,  and  warmth, 
and  brooding  joy,  for  this  one  evening,  just.  The 
other  claims  should  have  their  time  and  place  ; 
but  this  night  seemed  to  belong  solely  to  them- 
selves ;  the  trio  about  the  wide  old  hearthstone 
—  uncle  Richard,  her  mother,  and  herself. 

Any  new  entrance  there  must  be  like  a  jan- 
gliug  discord  in  the  harmony. 

Some  such  thoughts  went  half  consciously 
through  the  girl's  mind  in  the  instant  or  two 
before  she  rose  up  after  hearing  the  knocker. 


198  ONLT  GIRLS. 

Just  at  this  flash  of  time  I  want  you  should 
glance  inside  the  room ;  it  is  the  very  one 
where,  long  ago,  Edith  Folger  sat  in  a  little 
heart  of  peace  and  shelter,  while  the  great 
summer-storm  raged  outside,  and  told  her  story 
to  breathless  listeners  ;  above  all,  to  that  strange, 
brown,  silent  youth  in  one  corner. 

To-night  it  is  very  quiet  outside.  The  late 
frosts  are  busily  at  work.  The  summer  has  gone 
softly  away  at  last,  and  left  them  to  have  their 
own  will  with  her  beauty  of  grasses,  and  leaves, 
and  blossoms. 

Yet  those  black,  devouring  things  come  as 
soft  and  tenderly  as  her  spring  sunshine  and  her 
summer  rains  —  as  softly,  uncle  Richard  says,  "as 
old  age  does,  stealing  along  with  white  hairs  and 
deepening  wrinkles,  so  quietly,  that  one  does  not 
feel  the  ringers  until  at  last  he  finds  the  old  worn- 
out  body  is  done  with,  and  the  soul  is  ready  and 
waiting  for  the  larger  blessedness."  And  if  you 
had  seen  the  old  man's  face  when  he  said  this, 
the  words  would  seem  to  have  quite  another  mean- 
ing from  the  one  they  have  reading  them  here. 

There  was  a  wood  fire  on  this  hearth  also  ; 
a  great  birch  log  supported  by  maple  and  chest- 
nut, and  all  taken  up  in  one  wide,  surging  pplen- 


ONLY  GIRLS.  199 

* 

dor  of  flame,  that  rushed  into  the  great,  black- 
throated  chimney. 

Mrs.  Staines  sat  on  one  side  of  the  fire.  She 
has  grown  pale  and  worn  in  these  years,  but 
pain  and  the  slow  failing  of  the  life-springs  have 
spared  the  motherliness  in  her  face.  She  will 
carry  that  down  to  the  grave  which  awaits  her, 
not  many  years  off.  She  is  almost  a  confirmed 
invalid  now,  and  the  daughter  has  fairly  taken 
the  mother's  place  as  mistress  of  the  household. 

There  she  sits,  quite  idly,  by  the  globe  of  the 
great  kerosene  lamp.  She  has  been  cracking 
walnuts.  A  tempting  heap  lies  in  an  old-fash- 
ioned, blue-rimmed,  China  urn  on  the  small  table, 
and  close  to  them  is  a  glass  dish  piled  with 
great,  beautiful  pears,  brown,  with  streaks  and 
dashes  of  red ;  the  summer's  ripe,  wine-like 
juices  bottled  in  those  glowing  rinds.  Uncle 
Richard,  in  his  green  dressing-gown,  which  be- 
comes his  fine  gray  head,  has  a  wonderfully  pa- 
triarchal look  to-night.  He  is  reading  scraps  of 
news  from  the  daily  paper,  which  finds  its  way 
up  to  Creek  Farm  every  night  from  the  distant 
city. 

So  the  knock  comes  jarring  and  intrusive  into 
this  homely  peace  and  warmth. 


200  ONLY  GIRLS. 

"  Perhaps  it  is  somebody  in  trouble,"  Bessie 
thinks,  with  a  little  prick  of  conscience,  as  she 
slips  off  the  buff  apron  and  goes  to  the  door. 

She  wears  a  dress  of  some  dark  crimson  wool, 
with  a  bit  of  snowy  frilling  about  the  neck ;  the 
light  from  the  hanging  lamp  falls  upon  her  as 
she  opens  the  front  door  and  looks  up  at  the 
stranger  standing  there,  with  those  damson-pur- 
ple eyes  of  hers  ;  he  has  seen  them  before  ;  he 
thinks  of  the  time  now. 

The  stranger  lifts  his  cap  to  the  girl,  and  she 
flushes  under  the  olive  of  her  cheeks,  and  decides 
that  he  is  a  gentleman. 

"  Does  Mr.  Richard  Staines  live  here  ?  "  in  a 
clear,  manly  kind  of  voice. 

"  Yes  ;  will  you  walk  in,  sir  ?  "  says  the  girl ; 
and  the  stranger  enters  the  hall  and  follows  his 
hostess  into  the  light  and  warmth  of  the  old  sit- 
ting-room —  a  wonderful  contrast  to  the  chill  and 
darkness  outside,  where  the  frosts  are  having  it 
all  their  own  way. 

Uncle  Richard  looks  up,  and  then  rises  as  the 
stranger  enters.  He  sees  a  broad-shouldered, 
sturdy,  well-built  young  man,  with  thick,  brown- 
ish hair  and  beard ;  a  pleasant,  shrewd,  manly 
face,  too.  He  wonders  if  he  ever  saw  it  before. 


ONLY  GIRLS.  201 

Mrs.  Staines,  too,  in  her  thickly-padded  inva- 
lid's chair,  looks  at  the  stranger  with  the  motherly 
face  he  remembers  so  well.  He  comes  forward ; 
he  puts  out  his  hand  to  uncle  Richard,  and  as 
he  looks  at  the  kingly  old  farmer,  his  whole  face 
lights  up  with  a  glad,  reverential  joy. 

"  Mr.  Staines  —  uncle  Richard,"  says  the  stran- 
ger, in  a  voice  that  you  rather  feel  than  hear 
has  a  shake  in  it,  "won't  you  find  a  name 
for  me  ?  " 

Uncle  Richard  settles  his  glasses  and  gazes 
very  earnestly  at  the  stranger.  The  mellow 
sweetness  of  the  old  man's  smile  comes  into 
his  face.  "  My  friend,"  he  says,  shaking  his 
gray  head,  "  I'm  afraid  you  will  have  to  help 
me." 

But  Bessie  has  been  standing  just  behind  her 
uncle,  where  the  lamp  shines  full  upon  the 
stranger.  She  has  been  gazing  with  a  breathless 
intentness;  suddenly  a  great  light  shoots  into 
her  eyes,  and  takes  up  her  whole  face,  and  th& 
words  come  in  a  kind  of  amazed  cry — "  Keefe 
Bartlett !  " 

He  turns,  his  whole  face  full  of  a  bright  glad- 
ness, and  gives  his  hands  to  the  girl.  Then  they 
all  know. 


202  ONLT  GIRLS. 

"  Welcome  back  again.  We've  lost  you  for  all 
these  years,"  said  uncle  Richard,  as  he  wrung 
Keefe's  hand ;  and  then  it  was  Mrs.  Staines's 
turn.  When  it  came  to  her,  the  young  man  put 
his  face  right  down  to  the  thin,  withered  cheek 
and  kissed  it,  remembering  the  time  when  she 
had  put  her  arms  about  his  neck  in  that  moth- 
er-way. They  made  him  welcome  as  though 
it  was  to  his  own  home  he  had  come  that 
night. 

There  was  so  much  to  tell  and  to  hear  !  Keefe 
had  written  several  times,  but  the  overland  mails 
were  slow  and  uncertain,  and  Keefe's  letters  had 
never  gained  Creek  Farm.  It  was  ten  years 
since  he  had  left  them,  going  west  to  seek  his 
fortunes  the  very  autumn  that  he  gave  up  stage- 
driving. 

He  had  at  first  found  employment  and  gained 
experience  in  Chicago  before  a  tempting  offer 
took  him  out  to  the  mines,  where  they  had  all 
lost  sight  of  him. 

But  Keefe's  face  and  voice  spoke  more  for  him 
than  his  own  story  did  that  night.  He  was 
rather  modest  and  reticent  when  it  came  to 
talking  of  his  own  fortunes ;  he  hardly  made 
himself  the  central  figure  of  scenes  and  places ; 


ONLY  GIRLS.  203 

but  they  knew  that  it  had  been  well  with  him 
in  that  deep  sense  in  which  it  can  alone  be 
well  with  any  of  us. 

There  was  that  in  Iris  whole  air  and  bearing 
which  told  of  the  brave,  masterful  soul  of  the 
manly  heart  and  mind  which  had  struggled  and 
conquered. 

In  the  course  of  the  talk  Keefe  touched  on 
Rox  Coventry ;  said  that  he  had  met  him  out 
west,  when  he  was  sunk  low  in  sickness  and 
trouble  of  various  kinds  ;  that  he  had  it  in  his 
power  to  render  the  young  man  a  good  deal  of 
service,  for  which  Coventry  had  been  extrava- 
gantly grateful.  Business  had  brought  them 
into  close  companionship  during  the  last  four 
years,  and  a  deep  mutual  respect  and  attach- 
ment had  been  the  result.  Keefe  knew  young 
Coventry  for  a  generous,  noble  fellow,  who  had 
struggled  and  conquered  where  the  odds  were 
greatly  against  him.  Rox  was  now  at  Agawam 
with  his  uncle.  He  knew  Keefe  was  expecting 
to  visit  Creek  Farm,  and  it  was  likely  the  former 
might  be  over  the  following  day. 

The  hearers  were  all  curious  and  interested 
in  Rox's  fortunes,  remembering  Edith's  story ; 


204  ONLY  GIRLS. 

but  he  slipped  quite  into  the  background  before 
Keefe  Bartlett.  Then  there,  too,  was  the  little 
girl  he  had  dragged  out  of  the  well  on  that 
memorable  day.  It  must  have  been  in  the 
thoughts  of  both  to-night,  although  neither  al- 
luded to  it. 

Yet  the  young  man  could  hardly  believe  that 
this  fair  flower  of  womanhood  had  burgeoned  out 
of  the  small,  peaked,  sallow-faced  child  he  had 
dragged  over  the  well-curb ;  but  the  eyes  held 
their  purplish  radiance  still;  he  had  never  seen 
any  eyes  like  those,  Keefe  thought,  in  all  his 
wide  wanderings. 

They  were  searching  his  face  too,  a  little  shyly, 
the  bronze,  striking  face,  to  find  some  li  ken  ess 
to  that  of  the  boy's  who  had  leaned  over  the 
well  in  the  child's  strait  of  agony,  with  help  and 
pity  in  his  looks  and  words ;  and  the  halo  which 
the  coarse,  heavily-moulded  features  wore  then 
to  the  girl's  gaze,  still  lingered  around  the  strong, 
manly  ones  which  thought  and  time,  and  his 
own  soul,  had  been  chiselling  for  Keefe  Bartlett. 
Yet  there  was  no  restraint  in  the  talk  of  the 
young  man  and  woman. 

It  was  simple  and  bright,  like  the  old  pleasant 


ONLT  GIRLS.  205 

friendship  of  the  youth  and  the  child,  and  its 
swift  current  flowed  through  grave  moods  or 
gay  ones  far  past  the  hour  of  midnight,  and 
outside  the  silent  black  frosts  were  at  their 
work,  and  over  all  the  shining  stars  of  God. 


208  ONLY  GIRLS. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

next  day,  just  in  the  warm,  mellow 
noon-sunniness,  Rox  Coventry  came.  He 
did  not  come  alone.  He  had  brought  his 
cousin  with  him  on  the  noon-train,  which,  during 
the  last  month,  had  stopped  at  the  junction,  not 
more  than  half  a  mile  below  Creek  Farm. 

Edith  had  not  been  under  the  roof  since  the 
summer-tempest,  years  ago,  had  driven  her  there. 
She  was  always  planning  to  return  to  Bayberry 
Hills,  but  something  was  sure  to  break  up  her 
rustic  little  programme,  and  sweep  her  off  in 
some  gay  current  of  life.  But  she  had  come 
back  now,  with  her  heart  very  full  of  the  old 
visit,  very  full  of  a  great  deal  else  too. 

She  wore  some  soft,  silky  fabric,  of  a  tender 
violet  shade,  with  dark-blue  knots  at  her  throat, 
and  a  simple  native  grace  shining  in  every  move- 
ment. You  could  not  have  looked  at  the  girl 
without  loving  her,  and  in  a  different  way  one 


ONLT  GIRLS.  207 

might  say  the  same  of  Bessie  Staines,  who  camo 
to  meet  her  ne\v  guests  in  the  pretty  alpaca  with 
a  bright  ainher  glow  in  all  its  folds,  which  she 
wore  in  honor  of  KeeiVs  arrival. 

It  is  true  one  of  the  young  women  had  had 
every  possihle  advantage  which  wealth,  culture, 
and  travel  could  bestow,  while  the  farmer's  niece 
had  hardly  been  a  hundred  miles  from  home  in 
her  life,  yet  she  had  a  bright,  graceful  charm  of 
her  own,  that  did  not  suffer  when  it  was  brought 
face  to  face  with  the  Agawam  proprietor's  beauti- 
ful, high-bred  daughter. 

Bessie  Staines  made  you  always  think  of  some 
delicious  little  waterfall  that  sings  and  sparkles 
in  cool,  green  depths  of  the  forest. 

The  first  greetings  were  hardly  over  when 
Edith  turned  of  a  sudden  and  held  out  her  hand 
to  Keefe  Bartlett.  Her  soul  was  in  her  face.  It 
was  in  that  very  room,  too,  where,  long  before, 
she  had  thanked  liim  for  what  he  had  done  to 
Bessie  Staines. 

The  gesture  now  reminded  all  who  witnessed 
it  of  that  other  scene  in  this  very  room. 

"Ah,  my  friend,''  she  said,  '•  he  has  told  me  all ! 
How  shall  I  thank  you  ?  ?'  Her  voice  broke  here, 


208  ONLT  GIRLS. 

and  there  was  a  flash  of  tears  across  the  blue  of 
her  eyes. 

Keefe  turned  to  his  friend,  with  a  question  and 
reproach  in  his  looks.  Rox  made  a  little,  sig- 
nificant, negative  sign,  which  Keefe  interpreted, 
and  which  the  others  did  not  see. 

Keefe  held  the  hand  which  Miss  Folger  had 
given  him.  "  I  don't  deserve  any  thanks,  and 
therefore  if  you  offer  them,  they  will  only  make 
me  uncomfortable." 

They  were  very  simple  words,  but  some  quiet, 
reserved  force  of  character  had  been  all  these 
years  growing  more  and  more  into  Keefe 's  speech 
and  whole  bearing. 

Edith  could  not  comprehend  the  look  of  tender, 
half  reverential  gratitude  which  shone  on  her, 
but  she  did  perceive  that  the  young  man  shrank 
from  any  allusion  to  the  subject  of  which  her 
own  heart  was  so  full. 

Uncle  Richard  had  come  in  with  Keefe  to 
greet  his  guests,  the  two  men  being  out-doors 
surveying  the  changes  on  the  farm-grounds,  at 
the  time  of  the  young  people's  arrival. 

Edith  was  delighted  to  see  her  old  friend,  and 
told  him  he  had  grown  handsomer  than  ever; 


ONL  r  GWLS.  209 

age   improved  him  ;  which  was  true  enough.     It 
is  apt  to  be  of  men  like  Richard  Staines. 

The  visit  which  followed  was  as  delightful  as 
possible.  Even  the  pale,  patient,  invalid  mother 
forgot  her  feebleness  as  she  entered  into  the 
bright,  magnetic  time. 

The  day  had  a  tender,  brooding  softness,  as 
though  it  was  doing  its  best  to  make  up  for  the 
loss  and  ravage  of  the  night's  black  frosts. 

We  all  know  such  days;  dim,  quiet,  restful. 
They  have  not  the  wide-spread  splendor,  the 
varied  glories  of  color,  that  have  gone  before; 
but  what  a  still,  divine  peace  broods  through 
those  warm,  golden  hours,  glowing  between  the 
chill,  late  mornings,  and  the  black  selvages  of 
frosty  nights ! 

It  was  singular  how  much  they  all  found  to 
talk  about,  precisely  as  though  they  had  known 
each  other  all  their  lives,  instead  of  meeting  now 
for  the  first  or  second  time. 

They  loitered  in  doors  and  out,  these  four 
young  people  with  uncle  Richard ;  they  feasted 
on  the  brown  golden  pears,  and  the  purple  wine 
of  great  clusters  of  late  grapes;  they  flashed  up 
sometimes  in  the  merriest  jokes  ;  and  the  young 
men,  especially  Rox,  sketched  bright,  strong, 
14 


210  ONLY  GIRLS. 

dramatic  pictures  of  scenes  of  life  out  on  the 
frontiers. 

He  had  far  finer  gifts  of  expression  than  his 
friend,  but  there  was  a  quiet  force,  a  latent 
strength  in  Keefe's  very  presence,  which  made 
itself  felt  even  when  he  was  quite  silent. 

Edith  was  immensely  struck  with  the  change 
which  the  years  had  wrought  in  the  stage- 
driver.  She  would  never  have  known  him  for 
the  shy,  crude,  lumbering  youth  who  had  driven 
the  Black  Hawk  Mountain  stage,  any  more 
than  she  would  the  bright,  graceful,  charming 
girl  for  the  curious,  peaked,  sallow,  large-eyed 
child  who  had  hung  around  her  that  night  of 
the  summer  gale. 

But  the  soul  of  this  visit  —  that  which  gave  it 
power  and  significance  never  to  be  forgotten  by 
any  of  these  people,  was  what  happened  after  the 
supper  was  over,  and  they  had  all  gathered  in 
the  warm,  old  keeping-room  which  was  really 
the  heart  of  the  homestead  of  Creek  Farm  ;  and 
outside  the  frosts  were  getting  ready  for  their 
work  again. 

Another  .great  chestnut  log,  and  birch  boughs 
around  it,  waved  a  splendid  orinamme  in  the 
chimney. 


ONLY  GIRLS.  211 

Behind  them  the  kerosene  burned  tinder  its 
soft  ground  shade,  and  they  all  sat  in  a  crescent 
between  the  two  lights. 

Rox's  gaze  went  from  one  face  to  the  other. 
"  I'm  so  unutterably  glad  we  came,  Edith ! "  he 
said.  "  It's  good  to  be  here." 

Bessie's  laugh  flashed  out  like  sunshine  at  that 
speech.  "  Why,  Mr.  Coventry,  that  is  precisely 
what  Peter  said  to  the  Lord  on  the  Mount  of 
Transfiguration,"  she  said. 

"  So  it  was,  Miss  Bessie,  but  I  was  not  think- 
ing of  Peter,  only  of  the  present  fact." 

In  a  moment  Rox's  gaze  had  gone  over  to  his 
Mend  who  sat  just  opposite.  There  was  a 
great  seriousness  in  young  Coventry's  face,  a 
tender  light  in  his  eyes. 

"  Bartlett,"  he  said,  "  I  want  to  tell  them  to- 
night. We  are  all  friends,  and  they  ought  to 
know." 

Keefe  moved  uneasily.  He  knew  he  would  be 
the  central  figure  in  Rox's  story.  "  I  would 
rather  you  did  not,  Coventry,"  —  a  kind  of  dep- 
recating appeal  in  his  voice. 

"  But  it  is  my  right.  I  feel  as  though  I  ought 
to  do  this,"  urged  the  other;  and  after  that 
Keefe  said  no  more. 


212  ONLT  GIRLS. 

So  Rox  told  the  story  of  that  night  at  Bear 
Ranche  Station  to  these  people  of  Creek  Farm. 
Its  darkest  features  were  fresh,  even  to  Edith 
Folger ;  for  this  time  he  disguised  nothing,  threw 
no  veil  over  the  sin  and  shame,  and  the  vivid 
horror  of  the  ending.  The  only  thing  he  left  out 
was  the  last  clause  of  the  message  which  the 
overseer  had  sent  to  Edith  Folger.  One  saw 
the  young  man  standing  there,  calm,  brave,  Un- 
flinching, waiting  with  folded  arms  for  the 
murder  which  Rox,  in  his  madness,  was  bent 
on,  and  afterwards  young  Coventry  told  the 
of  the  long,  tender,  helpful  patience  of  his 
friend,  which  Rox  said  had  given  himself  a  new 
sense  of  God's  pity  and  love,  and  they  learned 
how  Keefe  had  remained  by  him,  nursing,  cheering, 
strengthening  the  sick  body  and  soul,  and  never 
left  him  for  years,  until  the  work  was  done,  and 
Rox  had  regained  his  lost  honor  and  manhood. 

When  he  paused  there  were  no  dry  eyes  in 
the  crescent  between  the  kerosene  and  the  coals. 

It  was  very  hard  for  Keefe,  though.  He  did  not 
at  all  relish  sitting  still  and  seeing  himself  held 
up  a  hero  to  everybody's  eyes. 

He  flushed  all  over  his  face,  not  with  the 
bright  vividness  of  a  girl,  of  course,  for  he  was 


ONLT  GIRLS.  213 

a  strong  man,  but  with  a  dark  redness  under  his 
brown  skin. 

There  was  a  little  silence  when  Rox  ceased 
speaking.  His  last  words  had  been,  "  I  have 
made  this  confession  because  it  seemed  a  duty 
I  owed  to  your  friend  and  mine  —  the  best  friend 
a  man  ever  had." 

Then  Keefe  spoke :  "So  my  turn  has  come 
for  confession,  I  see !  You  have  driven  me  to 
it,  Rox." 

"  I  did  not  mean  to.  There  is  no  need, 
Keefe." 

"  Yes,  there  is,  though.  I  must  make  as  clean 
a  breast  of  it  as  you,  or  never  look  you  in  the 
face  again." 

Keefe  turned  now  to  the  others  and  said, 
very  earnestly,  "  I  can  bear  witness,  as  nobody 
else  can,  to  the  courage  and  patience  with  which 
Rox  Coventry  fought  that  hard  battle  with  him- 
self. He  had  everything  to  struggle  against ; 
hardships,  exposure  ;  while  all  that  roughing  it  on 
the  frontiers,  for  which  his  previous  life  had  so 
unfitted  him,  had  broken  his  health  and  shattered 
his  nerves.  His  strength  of  body  and  soul 
seemed  paralyzed ;  his  fancies  were  diseased ; 
and  he  who  fights  his  battle  against  such  odds 


214  ONLT  GIRLS. 

and  wins  the  victory,  is  the  real  hero.  Be- 
sides—  " 

Keefe  stopped  there  a  moment.  Rox  alone 
knew  what  was  coming.  The  young  man  turned 
to  Edith ;  his  voice  shook  a  little.  "  Your  cousin, 
Miss  Folger,  has  not  repeated  the  whole  of  the 
message  I  sent  you  that  evening  he  and  I  met 
at  Bear  Ranche.  There  was  a  last  clause  like 
this :  '  When  I  meet  her  in  the  next  world,  I 
shall  tell  her  what  she  has  done  for  me  in  this.' 
You  don't  know  what  that  means  —  do  .you?" 

"  No,  Mr.  Bartlett,"  faltered  Edith,  trying  to 
take  in  the  meaning  of  the  words,  and  utterly 
bewildered.  She  had  supposed,  as  they  all  did, 
that  the  story  she  had  told  years  ago  in  that 
very  room,  was  the  first  knowledge  Keefe  Bart- 
lett had  of  Rox  Coventry,  and  that  all  this  had 
recurred  to  the  overseer  when  he  overheard  the 
name  that  night,  in  the  bar-room  of  the  western 
ranche,  and  that  hi  her  story  lay  the  secret  of 
all  the  beautiful  service  and  friendship  that 
followed. 

"  Well,  I  am  going  to  tell  you  now,"  said 
Keefe. 

Then  he  commenced.  His  short,  strong  sen- 
tences had  not  the  picturesque  grace  of  Rox 


ONLT  GIRLS.  215 

Coventry's  talk ;  but  through  them  one  saw  the 
lonely,  friendless  factory  boy,  as  he  hung  sullen 
and  desperate  around  the  buildings  at  Agawam 
in  the  pale  autumn  morning,  until  he  wandered 
off  to  the  office  building,  where,  just  behind  the 
corner,  he  had  overheard  the  conversation,  on 
the  doorstep,  betwixt  the  proprietor  and  his 
nephew. 

It  was  wonderful  how  Keefe  retained  every 
word,  almost  every  inflection,  of  that  talk.  As 
you  listened,  you  understood  the  secret  of  his 
old  dramatic  power,  and  its  attraction  for  the 
factory  hands. 

Then  he  went  on  to  the  interview  betwixt 
Edith  Folger  and  the  boy  she  found  huddled 
up  in  the  corner  by  the  hedge  that  forenoon, 
and  whose  rudeness  almost  frightened  her  away. 
Here  again  he  went  over  the  whole  dialogue,  as 
though  he  had  learned  it  by  heart  from  the  actors 
themselves. 

He  told,  too,  how  the  devil  had  been  at  work 
all  that  day  in  the  young  workman's  soul ;  how, 
in  his  mad  despair,  the  evil  purpose  had  grown 
and  grown,  until  he  had  watched  Rox  leave  the 
house  at  Agawam,  and  dogged  his  steps,  and 
followed  him  down  the  railroad,  and  —  he  broke 


216  ONLY  GIRLS. 

off  right  there ;  "  they  all  knew  the  rest,"  he 
said.  "Edith  had  told  it,  sitting  in  that  very 
room,  the  night  of  the  summer  gale,  so  many 
years  ago." 

"But  how  did  you  know  about  the  other?" 
she  cried  out  breathlessly. 

They  had  all  been  listening  in  a  dead  silence 
to  the  talk ;  the  soft,  happy  humming  of  the  fire 
making  a  low,  murmurous  sound,  like  the  pleasant 
rustling  of  leaves  in  summer  winds. 

Keefe  turned  to  the  girl  now :  a  great  light 
shone  in  his  deep  eyes.  "  Because,  Miss  Folger," 
he  said,  "the  very  boy  who  answered  you  like 
such  a  brute  that  day,  who  followed  Rox  Coven- 
try from  your  door,  and  who  would  have  robbed 
or  shot  him  in  the  lonely  hollow  of  the  railroad, 
was  the  man  who  has  told  you  this  story  to- 
night !  Do  you  wonder,  now,  at  anything  I  did 
for  Rox  Coventry,  knowing  from  what  he  had 
saved  me  ?  " 

It  was  growing  towards  midnight,  and  hours 
since  Keefe  had  finished  his  story.  When  the  first 
overwhelming  surprise  with  which  his  hearers 
had  heard  the  denouement  of  his  tale  had  in 
some  degree  subsided,  there  had  been  a  few 
touches  to  add  to  the  picture,  of  the  pistol 


ONLY  GIRLS.  217 

which  Keefe  had  thrown  in  the  river,  of  the 
new,  happy,  child-like  heart  which  had  entered 
into  him,  and  with  which  he  had  gone  on  his 
way  through  the  pleasant,  peaceful  country  roads 
to  find  Bessie  Staines,  and  rescue  her  from  the 
old  well. 

It  was  long  past  midnight,  and  they  were  all 
about  retiring,  Rox  and  his  cousin  having  come 
with  the  intention  of  remaining  at  Creek  Farm 
until  the  next  day. 

The  evening  had  been  one  which  could  never 
be  forgotten,  which  must  lift  itself  like  a  great 
mountain  height  in  the  landscape  of  all  their 
Imemories. 

What  they  had  said,  and  felt,  and  done  in  all 
these  hours,  you  can  imagine,  placing  yourselves 
in  their  case  ;  but  if  I  tried  to  tell  you,  it 
would  only  be  with  Hamlet's  "  Words !  words ! 
words ! "  That  would  fail,  after  all,  to  hold 
the  truth.  One  little  jest  only  flashed  out  across 
the  grateful,  solemn  joy  of  that  evening's  mood. 

It  was  just  before  they  separated  for  the  night, 
that  Edith  went  up  to  Keefe  Bartlett,  and  with  a 
sudden  playfulness  sinning  through  the  tears 
which  had  been  in  her  eyes  all  the  evening, 
said,  "To  think  you  were  sitting  here,  and 


218  ONLY  GIRLS. 

quietly  listening  to  that  shocking  portrait  I 
was  drawing  of  the  boy  behind  the  hedge! 
Won't  you  forgive  me  ?  " 

"How  can  I  do  that,  Miss  Folger,  when  you 
only  drew  the  portrait  faithful  to  the  original  ?  " 

And  Keefe's  pleasant,  tender  smile  beamed 
full  upon  the  young  lady. 

"  But  you  have  changed  so  in  all  these  years. 
I  am  too  conscientious  merely  to  flatter  any  man, 
least  of  all,  'you!  But  I  certainly  do  not  find 
the  faintest  hint  of  likeness  to  the  boy  I  remem- 
ber sitting  behind  the  hedge  that  morning.  Are 
you  quite  sure,  after  all,  you  are  he  ?  " 

Just  then  they  heard  uncle  Richard  speaking. 
"  I  cannot  tell ;  but  it  seems  to  me  that  human 
souls  when  they  talk  with  God,  must  like  oftenest 
to  be  alone.  Yet  —  I  am  an  old  man  —  I  have 
never  seen  a  night  like  this.  It  may  be  I  can 
say  something  from  all  your  hearts  to  him." 

And  uncle  Richard  did.  But  what  —  I  could 
no  more  write  it  here  than  he  could  say  it  to 
the  world. 


ONLT  GIRLS.  219 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

was  a  spring  day  now  —  such  a  glory  of  a 
day !  There  had  been  a  long,  dreary  wait- 
ing, —  mournful  rains,  with  chill  and  barren- 
ness everywhere,  and  little  angry  squalls  of 
snow  flapping  out  white  war-banners  away  down 
to  the  very  edge  of  May. 

But  at  last  it  had  come  —  the  great  electrical 
thrill  of  the  awakening  to  that  wide,  dumb,  wait- 
ing earth.  It  was  as  though,  in  one  moment,  the 
soul  had  entered  into  it.  The  whole  land  glowed 
with  fresh,  tender  green ;  the  soft,  radiant  air 
was  full  of  the  spicy  sweetness  of  all  sprouting 
things.  Everywhere  the  leaves  were  bursting  in 
a  great  joyous  fullness  of  life.  The  peach-trees 
began  to  run  out  red  lances  of  blossoms,  and  the 
apple-boughs  were  already  creamed  over  with 
white. 

On  such  a  morning,  Bessie  Staines  went  out  to 
the  barn  to  find  some  fresh  eggs,  and  pat  Brownie's 


220  ONLT  GIRLS. 

nose.  She  carried  a  small  willow  basket,  and 
she  had  on  a  new  buff  print  morning  gown, 
which  became  her  better  than  a  good  many  costly 
silks  would.  She  did  not  even  wear  a  hat;  but 
her  hair  was  shade  enough,  with  its  brown  silky 
curves,  for  the  soft  wind  to  play  with  daintily  as  a 
lover  might. 

She  was  not  thinking  of  lovers,  though ;  she  was 
thinking  of  Brownie,  to  whom  she  went  straight- 
way. The  colt  was  now  a  magnificent  horse, 
with  its  beautiful  curve  of  neck,  and  its  shining 
heap  of  mane,  and  its  glossy  chestnut  hue. 
Bessie  could  sit  her  finely.  She  had  a  dark-green 
riding  suit,  and  Brownie  and  his  young  mistress 
might  often  be  seen  dashing  along  the  up-hill 
roads,  or  over  the  broad,  level  meadows.  Alto- 
gether it  was  a  pretty  sight.  The  people  would 
come  to  the  farm  windows  to  stare  after  it. 

Bessie  Staines  was  very  glad  in  the  warmth,  and 
sunniness,  and  all  the  fresh  broadcast  life  of  the 
new  May. 

"  We'll  have  a  wonderful  ride  before  the  day 
is  over,  —  you  and  I,  Brownie,"  she  said,  stroking 
the  white  nose,  that  still  looked  as  though  a  fleck 
of  sea-foam  was  caught  there ;  and  the  creature 
neighed  a  low,  joyful  assent. 


ONLY  GIRLS.  221 

They  two,  the  girl  and  the  horse,  were  alone 
that  moment,  in  the  long,  pleasant,  country 
barn.  Everything  was  bright  and  still  about 
them.  In  the  next  room,  beyond  the  mangers, 
was  the  great,  warm,  broken  haymow,  where  the 
eggs  were  ;  on  the  brown  rafters  overhead  were 
flickers  of  sunshine,  like  golden  wings  of  birds. 

In  that  moment's  hush  uncle  Richard's  gray 
mare,  with  a  man  on  her  back,  rode  suddenly  into 
the  barn. 

Bessie  looked  up  with  a  little  surprised  bright- 
ness in  her  face. 

"Why,  Mr.  Bartlett,  are  you  back  already?" 
she  said. 

"  Yes,  I've  had  a  brisk  five-mile  trot  on  the  up- 
roads.  What  a  magnificent  morning  it  is,  Miss 
Bessie  !  "  springing  off  his  horse. 

"  Yes ;  Brownie  and  I  have  been  promising 
ourselves  a  treat  before  the  day  is  many  hours 
older." 

I  may  as  well  say  here  that  Keefe  Bartlett  had 
now  the  general  eastern  management  of  several 
prosperous  western  mining  companies.  This 
made  it  necessary  for  him  to  reside  in  New  York ; 
but  whenever  he  could  get  a  breathing-space 
during  the  last  winter,  he  had  run  up  to  Creek 


222  ONLY  GTRLS. 

Farm.  This  visit  was  what  he  called  one  of 
these  breathing-spaces. 

He  came  now  and  stood  by  the  girl's  side. 
"  What  a  splendid  creature  Brownie  is  !  "  he  said, 
as  he  stroked  the  shining  cataract  of  mane. 

"  She  has  no  rival  in  the  county,  uncle 
Richard  says,"  the  girl  answers,  "  with  a  look  as 
proud  and  pleased  as  though  he  had  paid  her  a 
personal  compliment,"  Keefe  thinks. 

"  I  remember  that  night  I  saw  Brownie  for  the 
first  time,  while  I  was  skulking-  behind  the  bar- 
berry-clumps, and  watching  you  both,  as  you  stood 
in  the  front  yard.  It  was  a  very  pretty  sight, 
Miss  Bessie ; "  and  Keefe  Bartlett's  gray  eyes 
smile  on  the  girl. 

There  is  a  hint,  and  no  more,  of  a  blush,  under 
the  olive  skin. 

"  I  think  you  treated  us  very  unhandsomely  to 
run  off  as  you  did  after  —  that  day  at  the  well." 

Her  voice  dropped  a  little  on  the  five  mono- 
syllables. 

They  seldom  alluded  to  that  time,  now. 

"  If  I  had  known  precisely  the  kind  of  people 
you  were,  I  might  have  gathered  courage  to  come 
in  that  night  I  turned  and  left  you  at  the  great 
gate.  But  how  could  I  know  there  were  such 


ONLY  GIRLS.  223 

folks  in  the  world !  Besides,"  his  voice  falling 
suddenly,  "  the  thought  of  what  I  had  come  so 
near  being  that  day  must  have  held  me  back." 

She  felt  the  pain  in  his  voice.  "Ah,  Mr. 
Bartlett,  as  though  that  could  have  made  any 
difference  with  us,  with  anybody !  " 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  her  great  lustrous 
eyes,  full  of  a  kind  of  indignation  of  pity  as  she 
said  these  words. 

The  sight  moved  him  strangely.  The  man's 
strong  heart  swelled  and  thrilled  with  a  sudden, 
mighty  tenderness  for  the  girl  standing  there  in 
her  youth  and  fairness. 

"  I  believe  you,  Miss  Bessie,"  he  said,  with  his 
eyes  upon  her.  "I  believe,  if  you  had  known 
all,  it  could  have  made  no  difference  with  you, 
only  — '  He  paused  there.  "  /must  have  felt  it, 
you  know,  /must  always  feel  it." 

"It  is  a  shame  that  you  should,  Mr.  Bartlett. 
Such  a  grand,  true,  noble  man  as  you  are !  "  She 
stopped  right  there  ;  a  passion  of  pity  had  hurried 
out  her  adjectives.  This  time  it  was  no  hint  of  a 
blush  ;  it  was  a  rosy,  glowing  one,  which  spread 
all  over  her  face. 

Keefe  Bartlett  saw  it.     Then,  for  the  first  time, 


224  ONLY  GIRLS. 

he  was  conscious  that  he  loved  this  Bessie  Staines. 
She  had  in  a  certain  way  been  sacred  and  apart  to 
him  from  that  hour  when  he  lifted  her  out  of  the 
well,  and  his  feeling  had  been  so  natural,  so  much 
a  part,  of  his  life,  that  he  had  never  questioned  it ; 
and  now,  in  a  moment,  it  thrilled  into  a  great 
yearning  and  joy,  as  he  looked  at  the  girl  and 
thought  of  all  her  charm  and  brightness,  of  her 
warm  heart  and  sparkling  wit,  and  of  her  simple, 
beautiful  household  ways,  that  she  carried  gracious- 
ly as  a  queen  through  all  the  homely,  every-day 
living  at  Creek  Farm. 

But  a  great  doubt  and  fear  came  behind.  They 
forced  the  next  words  out  of  him,  against  the 
strong  will  which  would  have  held  them  back. 
"  But  if  I  should  ever  ask  any  woman  to  be  my 
wife,  I  should  first  have  to  tell  her  all  that  —  I 
would  not  ask  her  until  she  knew  it,  as  you  do, 
and  — it  might  make  a  difference." 

She  spoke  again  in  a  glowing  passion  of  gener- 
ous scorn.  "  Not  if  she  were  a  woman  worthy  of 
the  name  —  worthy  of  you." 

Then  he  turned  and  faced  her.  "  If  I  were 
to  ask  you,  would  it  make  no  difference,  Bessie  ?  " 

She  gave   him   one   proud,   fond   glance   from 


ONLT  GIRLS.  225 

those  great,  damson-colored  eyes,  but  not  a  word 
for  answrr.     He  did  not  need  one. 

Then,  in  the  sunshiny  stillness  of  the  old  barn, 
he  drew  her  to  him,  and  kissed  her.  "  Years 
ago,"  he  said,  "a  little  girl  put  up  her  face  to 
be  kissed,  standing  out  there  by  the  farm-yard 
gate.  I  think  it  was  that  child's  kiss  which 
saved  me  from  going  down  in  all  the  dark  and 
struggles  which  were  to  come ;  only  a  little  girl, 
but  she  saved  me ! " 

"  O,  Keefe ! "  She  was  clinging  to  him  and 
sobbing. 

"  And  this  is  the  first  young  face  I  have  kissed 
since  that  time,"  drawing  his  hand  tenderly  over 
her  cheek's  wet  brightness. 

They  went  into  t-Le  house  together.  Mrs. 
Staines  sat  knitting  by  the  window,  in  the 
warm  May  sun.  The  winter  and  the  long,  wet 
spring  ha*d  shaken  her  dreadfully;  she  looked 
paler  and  thinner,  and  more  peaceful  than  ever. 

Uncle  Richard  sat  a  little  way  off,  reading 
fiorne  news  to  his  sister-in-law  out  of  last  night's 
paper. 

Nothing    is    changed    about    him.      It  is    the 
same   fine  gray  head,   the   patriarchal    face   and 
air,  of  last  autumn. 
15 


226  ONLY  GIRLS. 

"Uncle  Richard  —  mother  —  "  falters  Bessie; 
and  the  two  look  up,  and  see  her  and  Keefe 
standing  there,  and  then  they  know ! 

"What  is  there  more  to  tell  ?  The  mother's  glad 
tears,  the  old  man's  solemn  blessing,  and  the 
warm,  beautiful,  May  sunniness,  like  a  tender 
thought  of  God,  over  and  around  them  all. 

It  is  May  still,  though  just  on  the  edge  of 
June  now.  Some  time  ago,  there  was  a  magnifi- 
cent sunset,  and  Rox  Coventry  and  Edith  Folger 
were  out  on  the  veranda  watching  it.  There  is 
a  brown,  lustrous  twilight  in  the  air,  and  little  • 
breezy  sounds  of  fresh  leaves  all  through  the 
grounds,  and  overhead  stars  coming  and  coming 
into  the  blue,  until  it  will  be  full  of  them. 

Edith  puts  her  head  out  of  the  window.  "  What 
a  delicious  night  it  is ! "  she  says,  drinking  in 
the  fresh  fragrance  of  sprouting  and  Wossoming 
things :  "we  shall  have  a  beautiful  day  for  our 
trip  to  dear  old  Creek  Farm  to-morrow.  It  is 
to  be  a  visit  of  congratulations,  you  know." 

"Yes,"  Rox  answers,  pacing — just  as  his 
old  habit  was  —  up  and  down  the  great,  hand- 
some sitting-room ;  "  and  it  has  all  turned  out 
so  happily.  Bessie  Staines  is  just  the  kind  of 


ONLY  GIRLS.  227 

wife  Keefe  ought  to  have  —  bright  and  sweet, 
with  a  transparent  honesty,  and  a  subtle,  tanta- 
lizing charm  of  look  or  manner  —  I  never  could 
quite  make  out  which  ;  but  I  had  half  a  mind  to 
fall  in  love  with  her  myself,  only — " 

"  Only  what  ?  " 

He  came  and  stood  before  her  with  all  his  old, 
easy  grace  of  manner. 

"  There  were  you,  Edith  !  " 

She  lifted  her  hands,  with  the  old,  arch  play- 
fulness. "  Was  I  the  ogress  who  stood  in  the 
way?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  you  were  ;  and  what  is  worse,  that  '  OTVH 
cousin '  stands  like  a  grim  Fate  in  the  way,  and 
waves  me  off  from  proposing  to  you." 

"  You  ought  to  be  thankful,  Rox,  it  spares 
you  from  such  a  misfortune,"  says  the  girl  half 
gayly,  half  gravely. 

"  I'm  not ;  but  a  fellow  must  make  the  best  of 
circumstanc.es,  and  I  am  thankful  enough  that  no 
masculine  biped,  this  or  the  other  side  of  the  ocean, 
swooped  up  my  pet.  If  he  had  —  you  know  my 
old  threat  —  I  should  certainly  have  shot  him!" 

Her  laugh  broke  again  merrily.  4<  Well,  I  shall 
give  you  no  chance  to  do  that,  Rox.  To  think 
it  is  all  so  nicely  settled  at  last,  and  that  you 


228  ONLY  GIRLS. 

are  to  live  with  papa  and  me  always,  and  be  just 
my  brother !  That  has  always  been  so  much 
dearer  name  to  me  than  lover ! " 

"I  don't  deserve  all  this,  Edith." 

"  Don't  say  that,  Rox.     It  hurts  me.'* 

"  I  wouldn't  do  that  for  the  world,  Edith ;  but 
a  fellow  must  remember  sometimes.  I'm  glad, 
however,  that  uncle  Bryant  knows  all '  you  do 
now.  I  never  could  have  accepted  this  generous 
offer,  this  fine  berth  in  the  mills,  if  I  had  not 
made  ample  confession  beforehand." 

"  He  does  not  respect  or  love  you  the  less, 
Rox,  now  that  he  knows  all.  He  said  to  me 
yesterday  morning,  after  the  matter  was  finally 
arranged,  ''I  have  done  by  Rox,  Edith,  as  J  would 
have  done  by  my  own  son.'  I  was  glad  to  hear 
that." 

"  Dear  Edith  !  All  that  son  and  brother  could 
possibly  have  been  to  him  and  to  you,  I  mean, 
God  helping  me,  to  be  to  you  both." 

He  said  it  in  a  low,  solemn  voice,  as  though 
it  was  between  God  and  his  soul,  and  he  laid 
his  hand  softly  on  her  bright  hair.  They  both 
were  silent  a  few  moments. 

Then  she  said,  "  I  never  saw  papa  so  touched 
and  moved  by  anything  as  he  was  by  —  your  story, 


ONLT  GIRLS.  229 

Rox.  He  talked  it  over  with  me  for  hours,  and 
the  tears  were  in  his  eyes  more  than  once.  He  is 
very  curious  to  see  Keefe  Bartlett,  too." 

"  That  noble  Keefe !  His  young,  manly 
strength  and  shrewd  sense  are  just  what  is 
needed  at  Creek  Farm,  now  uncle  Richard  i& 
getting  old,  and  the  mother  so  feeble.  The 
burdens  will  drop  gradually  on  his  strong 
shoulders.  The  household  needs  him.  He  has 
found  his  place." 

"  And  so  another  household  needs  you,  and 
you  have  found  your  place,  Rox." 

He  looked  at  her  with  a  great  tenderness 
shining  in  his  face.  "  I  owe  it  all  to  you,  Edith, 
my  cousin,  niy  -sister." 

"  Rox  ! " 

"  It  is  true !  God's  own  truth !  Your  talk 
that  morning  put  the  thought  into  my  mind, 
roused  the  generous  impulse  in  my  heart.  If  it 
had  not  been  for  you,  I  should  never  have  turned 
back  that  day  on  the  railroad,  and  given  Keefe 
Bartlett  the  money  ;  and  you  know  how  pivotal 
that  act  of  mine  has  been  in  the  fate  of  both. 
Only  a  girl,  Edith,  but  you  saved  me ! " 

You  remember  it  was  what  Keefe  Bartlett  had 

• 

said  to  Bessie  Staines  that  morning  in  the  barn. 


230  ONLY  GIRLS. 

What  more  can  I  say,  except  that  a  little  far, 
golden  rina  of  new  moon  came  just  then  over  the 
distant  hill-top,  and  looked  at  the  two  sitting 
there  by  the  window  —  at  Box  Coventry,  with  the 
tender  shining  in  his  face,  and  at  Edith  Folger, 
with  the  awed  joy  in  hers  ;  and  that  it  seemed  as 
though  that  young  moon  was  a  smile  of  God, 
leaning  out  upon  both  of  them? 


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